


City of Ice

by heartdontfailmenow, PunsAndRoses



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Stravaganza - Mary Hoffman
Genre: Duchessa Elsa, F/M, Gen, Stravaganza Series AU, This is very OC heavy so I hope you guys like OCs, Time Travel, shardsverse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 83,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartdontfailmenow/pseuds/heartdontfailmenow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsAndRoses/pseuds/PunsAndRoses
Summary: A Stravaganza Series AU based on City of Masks by Mary HoffmanWhen Dag wakes up in a world that isn't his own, he discovers a plot that could change his life, as well as the fate of the City of Ice, ruled by the mysterious Duchessa.
Relationships: Elsa (Disney)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to post some of my tumblr fics here on Ao3, so here I am! The OCs that you'll meet (i.e. Alarik, Jenny, Dag, Jenny, Nikolai, Enrico, Beata, and Knut) all belong to ShardsofArendelle!

PROLOGUE

From his seat at the Palazzo balcony, Alarik watched as the Duchessa was slowly lowered into the lake, a sudden gust of wind blowing past the hem of her skirts, just as the tips of her toes broke through the water’s surface. All around, the sound of the crowd cheering was deafening as their beloved Duchessa once more secured a year of prosperity and blessing for her people through her fourth ever Marriage with the Sea.

As the Duchessa was lifted from the waters, Alarik saw her shivering from the freezing waters of the lagoon. His view of the Duchessa was quickly hidden by her ladies-in-waiting as they instantly began fluttering around her, covering her with towels and leading her toward the carriage that would take her back to the Palazzo.

Standing up, Alarik began excusing himself from the company of Talian nobles seated at the Balcony, all of whom had made the journey for Carnivale later. The carriage ride from the docks to the Palazzo was a short one, and he was meant to be part of the group that greeted the Duchessa as she was escorted back into the Palazzo.

Just as he had descended the steps from the main hall,he could already see a small crowd of people waiting at the Palazzo entrance. At the very front was the Duchessa’s younger sister and her family, the former was already bouncing on the balls of her feet. A towel was tucked into her arm as she squealed incessantly into her husband’s ear, who was balancing their young daughter on his shoulders. Just as he reached the small welcoming party, the Duchessa’s sister turned her head and caught sight of him, instantly prompting her to wave him forward. Before he could politely decline, she had already walked over, taken hold of his wrist and pulled him forward to stand between her and her husband.

“What are you thinking standing way back there? Of course you’re supposed to stand here with us!”

Alarik grinned offhandedly and offered a bow to the Principessa and her husband. “I didn’t want to impose Principessa,” he said, and if the tone of his voice was a little too teasing to be considered proper, the ladies-in-waiting and fellow courtiers standing behind them knew well enough not to admonish him for it. After all, “Principessa” was but Kristoff’s nickname for her, as Bellezza was not one that chose its leader through lineage, but through the votes of the people. But she was beloved by the Bellezzians, mthe lively younger sister of their great Duchessa, and the nickname had caught on.

At that, the Principessa made a very un-ladylike snort, waving dismissively at him with her wrist, “Alarik, I’ve told you many times! When we’re not surrounded by the other city-state leaders you can just call me Anna. Say it with me now, Anna.” Getting her daughter’s attention, Anna began exaggeratedly pointing to herself, “What’s my name Neta? Tell Alarik what my name is!”

The little girl’s expression went blank for a beat, as if unsure why her mother was asking such a strange question, then she opened her mouth and said with all the confidence of a two year-old, “Mamma.”

Anna’s husband, Kristoff, burst laughing at that, an act he quickly tried to hide once his wife began glaring at him. “You walked right into that one Anna,” he simply said, patting his daughter’s thigh as if in congratulations.

Anna opened her mouth to make another retort when the gesture was cut short by Neta bouncing eagerly on her father’s shoulders and pointing.

“It’s the carrozza!”

Everyone’s heads turned to the direction of the gates as the royal carriage came rolling in, stopping exactly at the Palazzo entrance where two footmen were waiting, one to open the carriage door and another to assist the Duchessa in her descent.

En route from the docks, the Duchessa had already been toweled-off and dressed in an elegant deep blue robe lined with silver flowers, the effect making it seem as if she had the night sky draped over her entire body. The mask on her face, a Bellezzan custom for unmarried women above the age of sixteen, was made to compliment the robe, seeing as how it was fashioned out of deep blue silk with an overlay of silver lace. Her ever present elbow-length gloves were deep blue as well, with silver stitching along the hems.

The outfit and mask were only temporary of course, until she could be properly dressed into an even more elegant gown and mask for the evening’s festivities.

Once she had reached the welcoming party, the Duchessa was instantly engulfed in a hug by her younger sister, one she returned with a slight chuckle and an awkward pat on Anna’s shoulders. The moment she managed to gently extricate herself from her sister, the rest of the welcoming party bowed before her, murmurs of “welcome back your Majesty” and “congratulations Duchessa” filled the air.

She nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes sweeping over all of them before stopping and meeting Alarik’s, the deep blue and silver of her mask only serving to highlight the bright blue of her eyes. He felt his heart patter out a quick staccato against his ribs. 

Elsa Arenvellata. Duchessa of Bellezza.

***

As the sun dipped past the silhouette of the nearby island of Torrone in the horizon, the entire lake looked as if it was ablaze with fire, all reds and golds mixed with the blues and greens of the actual water. The effect, however, was lost on the people gathered in the streets.

Along all the streets mismatched tables and chairs had been brought out for the peoples’ feast. The air was alive with the smell of food and the discordant sounds of music, laughter, and singing. No space was left uncovered and a staple on every table were bottles and bottles of Bellezzan wine, flowing into goblets or mouths or just sloshing unto tablecloths and laps.

Everywhere, the people were enjoying themselves, basking in the knowledge that another year of fortune was granted to them by their beloved Duchessa. Streets that weren’t covered with tables and chairs were left for dancing, where young men could court young ladies in varying mask colors. The children who weren’t sent to bed early by their mothers were ducking under tables and running around street corners, sticks wrapped with multicolored ribbons in their hands as their high squeals of laughter echoed through the night.

While the citizens waited for the fireworks display that would be the finale for the evening, they would celebrate, as only true Bellezzans knew how.

***

The feast inside the palazzo was a much more refined affair, and for all it’s lacking in raucous merriment, lacking in everything else was it not.

Along the long table, laden with the feast that Elsa herself had barely touched, lay several Murano wine glasses, the finest from the neighboring island. Each glass was quickly filled with the rich Bellezzan red wine, although she herself sipped sparingly. Her companion seated at her right ordered yet another glass.

“To another year of prosperity for your fine city!” said Hans, perhaps a tad louder than he had intended. He raised his glass at her, and the look of greed that came across his face as he got a better look at the crystal did not escape Elsa’s notice. Regardless, Elsa raised her glass. She would have to keep him happy a little while longer, before the wine could finally subdue him and his silver tongue, at least for the night. The end of the feast could not come soon enough.

When he turned towards his other companion, Elsa was finally free to look to her left, pleased that Alarik had a look of mild distaste towards the youngest Di Meridione brother, surely mirroring her own. One of the few good things about her mask was that the concealment of her face also hid her real thoughts, especially helpful with regards to courtly matters. Hans was oblivious every time her brows constantly furrowed at his words, as were most others. The mask not only declared the Duchessa unwed, but untouchable, unconquerable.

Very few have seen the face behind her mask, since she had turned sixteen. She had been wearing the mask for nearly a decade now, though her election as Duchessa was only four years prior, and the Bellezzan’s memories were short. Because of her reclusiveness, the people had long accepted that their beloved Duchessa was married to the city, and the city alone. If the citizens remembered what she looked like without her mask, nearly a decade ago, then the memory was quickly forgotten, images of her in silk finery and intricate masks replacing it.

And even fewer truly knew what went on in the head that held the mask. Only her sister, and one other.

“Coin for your thoughts?” Alarik murmured, leaning towards her ear. She knew full well he never needed to ask, and judging by his grin, he knew it as well.

She raised an eyebrow at him, supposedly hidden behind the silk of her mask, but his smile widened all the same. “Another year, another Marriage.”

“And the city’s welfare has been assured for another year.” He said, sounding like a schoolboy reciting his times tables. Her senator was never one for the superstitions that surrounded the Marriage with the Sea, he was a man of science, through and through, though like her, he understood the need to keep to the ancient traditions of Bellezza. It kept the people happy and secure, and that was enough. He grinned, “the last marriage, your fifth, was it?”

“Belleza is celebrating my fourth Marriage to the Sea,” she said, rubbing her temples, her mask nearly slipping off as she did. She grew weary of the farce that the city insisted on year after year, yet another fortune of the treasury used on finery that would only be used once, as the Duchessa was dipped into the water, then the garments and the mask would be preserved, sent to the museum, and then never used again. Simply yet another pretty thing to look at, something that the Duchessa herself hoped to never be.

Alarik stilled her hand before she could accidentally knock her mask off, the Duchessa’s face being revealed to all the guests would be a scandal, and the warmth of his touch made her forget her aching head. “Perhaps the favorite part of the night will ease your mind.” He said, looking towards the large balcony.

“I can assure you, the fireworks are far from my favorite part of the night.”

He put his hand to his chest good naturedly, “You wound me, Your Grace!” he said at the jab to the display he had worked so hard in the lab for.

“It all depends on you.” Elsa murmured, before Anna came bounding back to the table.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Anna said, taking Elsa’s hand and bouncing around at the thought of the Bellezzan sky becoming bright with color and light. “Do your thing, Alarik!” Anna pointed towards the balcony, where Neta and Kristoff were already seated, and where Elsa would join them. The best view in the city, overlooking the town square and the sea, for the Duchessa and her family.

Alarik chuckled, “Oh, I learned more than a thing or two during university in Padavia.” Of course, it wouldn’t do well for him to use all that he learned on a single fireworks display, especially when it happened year after year.

“I dearly hope so.” Elsa said. “Or I may regret not letting you become a mandolier instead!” She laughed when his nose wrinkled at the thought. He was tall enough to steer the mandolas across the waters, but lanky as maypole. The university suited him far better, as she had told him during her first year as Duchessa. He had returned from his studies to a laboratory commissioned by the Duchessa herself, for him to conduct his experiments in. His first project was to be the grand finale of the Duchessa’s fourth Marriage with the Sea.

He pushed his chair back, “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you two, or Bellezza, waiting. Principessa.” He said, bowing towards Anna, who giggled at his insistence on formality. “Your Grace.” His bow to her was even lower, curls flopping over and nearly masking his eyes.

When he left, Anna dragged her towards the balcony. Though many of the citizens regarded the Duchessa as untouchable, one step below goddess, Anna always treated her as sister, which she fully appreciated. “Come on!” Anna said, pulling her outside, just as the music accompanying the fireworks began, an entire orchestra of Bellezza’s finest.

The moment the first firework was fired up into the night sky, the whole city fell into a hush. The peoples’ laughter and singing fell silent as all eyes followed the path of the projectile, up and up and up it went until it exploded into a bright ball of scarlet and gold. The silence then gave way to the boom, crackle, and hiss of the fireworks, mixed with the intermittent gasps of surprise and screams of delight from the crowd.

The rest of the display followed very smoothly then, from the first burst of scarlet and gold the night sky was suddenly filled with color. Purple wheels of light that gradually turned to silver the faster they spun. Emerald bursts that faded momentarily before suddenly exploding again in a brilliant flash of cerulean. Bright blue stars that exploded in the sky before turning into silver sparkles that trickled down into the streets, prompting the crowds to try and jump up to catch them.

As the city was at its brightest, lit up with fire and color, Anna looked to her, eyes brighter than even the sky and said, “The sky’s awake!”

“So we’re awake!” Elsa chimed in, softer than Anna, but no less fondly.

“So we have to play!” They both said, giggling at their little yearly tradition. When they lived on the islands, the fireworks were always a fair distance away, although that never stopped Anna from waking her and bringing her to the window of their little cottage by the sea. When Elsa was eight and Anna was five, their parents finally brought them to Bellezza, to experience the city for themselves. Elsa had been bothered by the Marriage with the Sea, the former Duchessa had looked much younger than she should have been, always looking as young as ever when she was lowered into the water. Those thoughts were quickly forgotten by the city’s festivities, and Anna’s enthusiasm at their first time seeing the fireworks up close was infectious. It was then that Elsa fell in love with the city, promising to return to it one day. Little did her young self know that her eventual return to Bellezza would mean the beginning of her rise as its Duchessa.

The privacy of the balcony was one of the few places she could act like this, forget her duties as Duchessa for a while, and just let herself pretend she was a little girl watching the fireworks once more.

When the last of the fireworks ended, the city erupted in raucous applause and cheers, a promise of another year of good things to come.

Elsa excused herself, kissing both her sister and brother in law on both cheeks, and accepting the same, as was Talian custom. The second the fireworks had ended, Neta had fallen fast asleep, so Elsa simply brushed a kiss to the little girl’s forehead.

The halls of the palazzo were all but empty, everyone was either attempting to extract themselves from the crowds that watched the display, people not Bellezzan born were quickly making their way to the boats, and the servants were cleaning up the remains of the feast. Regardless, old habits were hard to break, so she walked, not ran, to her chambers. Always head held high, spine straight, no lifting of skirts in order to run, and always, always the Duchessa.

At least, until she finally reached the security of her room, and quietly shut the door behind her, to see her bookshelf already swung open at its hinges. She smiled at the sight of the lamp lit passageway, lifting her hands, intending to finally remove her wretched mask, when she felt someone behind her, warm hands joining hers as they untied the silk ribbon.

“You really do look lovely without the mask, you know.” Alarik said, cupping her cheek when she turned to smile at him, his finger running down the slight indentation on her skin, caused by wearing the mask all evening.

Elsa leaned into his touch, letting herself get a good look at him. His smile was ever present, gentle green eyes never leaving hers as he got his first good look at her since the feast. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable, but in that moment, it was a wonderful thing to feel. She wondered if that was a good thing, him seeing her this way. “Maybe I should order the masks banned,” she murmured.

“The scandal would rock all of Talia!” he grinned, and Elsa loved how it always reached his eyes. Even if there were a law forcing eligible men to wear masks, even those would never hide the way his face always lit up, especially around her.

The fireworks were long over, although she knew he was not the one who had actually lit them, as there was not a trace of the scent of gunpowder on him. When he leaned his face towards her own, she could smell Cittanuovan coffee and Padavian ink, the faintest trace always seeming to cling to him.

Her mask fell to the floor, silk ribbon fluttering. Tonight, she was no Duchessa. Just Elsa.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer as he brought his lips against hers. A slow smile turned up the corners of her mouth, steady heat already spreading from her neck to the rest of her. She luxuriated in the feel of him beneath her fingers and against her mouth, from the soft curls of his hair that brushed against her cheek as they kissed, to the smooth, strong lines of his body pressed against hers. Her grip on the collar of his cape tightened as he kissed a line from her jaw to just behind her ear. His lips closed around her earlobe before whispering into it, him walking them backward. She felt the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees as he cupped her cheek and pulled her mouth back to his.

“This is definitely my favorite part of the evening,” she whispered against his lips.

***

The morning after the Marriage with the Sea normally meant different things to different people.

The city’s citizens spent the day continuing in the merriment, the energy from the previous evening’s celebrations lasting well into the next morning. Like true Bellezzan, there was always something to celebrate.

For those who had gone to witness it, but were not Bellezzan born, it meant they had better not be in the city, for it was the Giornata Vietata, the Forbidden Day, the one day in the city where the inhabitants must be pure Bellezzan, and Bellezzan alone. The punishment for disobedience was death, though never carried out in living memory, as no one had even dared try.

It was an ancient, barbaric custom, started by a more purist Duchessa, but a tradition so deeply ingrained in the culture of the city that it would take years before the current Duchessa could ever hope to sway it. Like the Marriage with the Sea, or the practice of only allowing male mandoliers to steer the elegant black vessels across the canals, or the custom of unmarried women donning masks once she reached the age of sixteen. Much as Alarik knew the Duchessa wanted to change these, and more, there was only so much that she could do in the few years of her rule. Besides, there were more pressing things to worry about than breaking tradition, such as the people needing to be fed and cared for, so much more important than things like superstitions to “ensure the city’s beauty and prosperity.”

“Bellezza è Moneta,” was the Bellezzan motto. “Beauty is cash.” The moneta part, Alarik knew he could live without. And there was only one beauty in the city that ever mattered to him.

Alarik yawned as the morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. He turned to seek the woman in his arms, still asleep. He could hardly believe the sight, he had woken up thinking the last night had been but a wonderful dream. Her face was unlined, eyes unopened, and she was unmasked.

“And speaking of beauty…” he thought, leaning to stroke a stray lock of pale blonde hair from her forehead. He only now knew that she looked so much more relaxed asleep, for even when she wore her mask, it could never hide the furrow of her brow, or the widening of her eyes. At least, not to him.

She had been nervous yesterday, rightly so, and so had he. They had discussed the arrangement at length, for days on end, until finally deciding that, yes, this was what they both wanted. But that didn’t stop her from feeling anxious about the entire thing, and he had gently assured her multiple times that they did not have to push through with it. He would wait his entire life if he had to.

He had thought that there could be no sight in all of Talia that was more beautiful than how she looked in this moment, her hair splayed out on the pillows, brighter and infinitely more beautiful than the silver that the city so prized. Her eyes, the deep blues of the lagoon, were huge and achingly vulnerable, but they were blessedly dry when she gazed up at him, before giving him a shaky nod. The most breathtaking thing he ever had the privilege to see, the look of absolute trust and love in her eyes.

Of course, as much as the memory of it still made him feel a little catch in his chest, the sight of her in dawn’s pale light, still fast asleep in the circle of his arms, made him feel the same way. The sunbeams illuminated the bare skin of her shoulder, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Though Elsa was loathe to ever be likened to the goddess that the city so revered, Alarik thought that even the goddess herself could never compare.

When he pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyelids fluttered open, bleary eyes blinking up at him, before she began to smile slowly. Before the smile could be fully formed, however, he brushed his own lips against hers, before deepening the kiss, at her behest.

She pulled away, smiling as softly as she had during the earlier part of the previous evening. Bashful once more, something that few people had ever seen, for in this moment, she was not the ruler of the prosperous Talian city.

“Good morning, my Darling,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her earlobe.

She burrowed closer to him, her cool skin meeting the warmth of his own, as it had last night. Her hair tickled his nose, though he far from minded. “I think I quite like not being called Duchessa.” she said, sighing when he drew her even closer.

Last night, before she drifted off, he had whispered “Darling,” and he took the sleepy smile that she gave him as permission, before her breathing slowed, and eventually evened. His beautiful, darling Elsa.

Elsa rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking towards the window. “What time is it?” she asked, although she did not pull away.

“Few hours past dawn,” he said, after looking at the position of the sun. They had both slept in, although the holiday had kept them from any pressing matters to attend to very early in the morning. Regardless, the staff would soon be looking for her, as the Duchessa was almost always up with the sunrise. Besides, he needed to tidy up his lab anyway, after all the fireworks, it was a mess. He hated to have to leave her though, and judging by the frown she gave at the time, she did as well. “How long are we going to keep this a secret?” he asked, helping her into her robe.

She looked straight at him, biting her lip. Of course, it was not exactly unheard of, the Duchessa and the palace scholar. Certainly a more unorthodox relationship, but not forbidden. But Elsa, ever observant, was aware of the rumors of plots against her. She had once told him that the last thing she wanted was yet another person she loved to be used as leverage against her.

Alarik had almost not heard the rest, for that was the first time she had ever admitted returning his feelings for her.

Now, her feelings of apprehension at the revelation appeared to be the same as before, and he found himself to be strangely okay with it. He knew, and she knew, and that was more than enough for him. So he was more than a little surprised when she nodded, saying “a month, perhaps.”

He felt his smile widen so much that he was sure he looked foolish, but he didn’t care. “Really?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Her smile rivalled even his, as she tiptoed to give him a peck on the cheek. She accepted the mask, letting him be the one to tie the ribbon, her beautiful face covered once more. Her eyes were bright behind it, and they crinkled when she laughed. “A month of just us.” The mask didn’t cover the flush that came across her cheeks and neck, when he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, before Alarik set out through the passageway by the bookshelf.

“As you wish, ‘Just Elsa’ ” he murmured, taking a torch that hung from the stone walls.

The last thing he saw when he closed the door behind him, before returning to the dimly lit path towards his lab, was her face lighting up. The memory of the sight, as he made his way through the dark passageway, was more than enough for him.


	2. Chapter 1

Listening to her people’s petitions was probably one of the reasons Elsa reminded herself that being a Duchessa was what she needed to be. The people may think of her as being the closest to the Goddess but that wasn’t how she saw herself. She became Duchessa for the people, to make their lives better and to give them that glimmer of hope that their leader cared more about them than getting to rub elbows with Talian nobility.

When she spent a few hours of every day hearing petitions, hearing her people’s gratitudes and their praise she reminded herself that this was what made everything worth it. The constant wardrobe changes, the piles upon piles of bureaucratic rabble that she constantly needed to plow through everyday, and especially distancing herself from everyone she held dear, all of that could be bearable if it meant that she did well by her Bellezzans at the end of the day. 

At the moment she was hearing out the last petitioner of the day, a young mother who had needed to bring along her two small twins because their house had burned down last week and without the husband in the picture she had no means to raise her children. She was far too young for the cruelties of this world and Elsa’s heart went out to her.

“Please your majesty, any help you could offer would help a great deal.”

Elsa smiled softly, waving forward a courtier who was carrying a bag of silver. “Please, take this money for your family, and if you would like, I could have arrangements for you to live on Torrone until you and your children get back on your feet.”

The smile of relief that broke through the woman’s face warmed Elsa’s heart. “Goddess bless you Duchessa! Thank you!”

As was proper, the woman bowed deeply before taking Elsa’s gloved hand and kissing her fingers. When she was finally dismissed, Elsa heaved a deep sigh before slouching slightly on her throne, gently running her fingers along the skin underneath her mask as she fought the yawn that threatened to break through her lips. She really hated the darn thing, it was so inconvenient.

“Your Grace.”

She turned to find Gerda standing a little ways to her left, already mid-curtsy and eyes cast downward.

“Yes, what is it?”

“My Lady, Senator G–”

“Elsa! Alarik needs to talk you!”

Anna’s sudden interruption echoed throughout the entire receiving hall and had shocked Gerda enough to straighten from her curtsy. As it was, Elsa’s sister had burst through the receiving hall’s side doors, her hair in a disarray and her skirts clutched in her hand as she panted, clearly due to running from halfway across the Palazzo.

Elsa looked from Anna to Gerda, and at the latter’s helpless little nod, she figured that Anna’s sudden exclamation was the same message Gerda had meant to deliver herself.

“Very well, tell him I’m ready to receive him.”

“Uh, yeah about that,” Anna began, releasing her skirts in favor of nervously scratching at the back of her head. “He needs you, erm–” Anna tried and failed to hide the fact that she was pointing in the direction of Alarik’s lab by running her hand through her hair. The effect was both comical and served to further ruin the hairstyle that Catrina and Blanca, Anna’s ladies-in-waiting, no doubt spent hours perfecting.

Smiling fondly at her sister, Elsa nodded her understanding before standing up and allowing Gerda and Anna to lead her through the Palazzo halls to where Alarik was waiting for her.

Alarik’s lab was situated beside the Palazzo, nearer to the water so that ingredients and materials he needed to have imported from other city states could be instantly transported to the lab instead of strenuously going through the Ducal Palazzo security and check up. A small privilege Elsa had granted him when he had returned from University and began work at the lab. Seeing as how she was officially summoned, Elsa had to go through the process of being escorted outside the Palazzo with five other ladies-in-waiting, four footmen to carry the tent that would shield the Duchessa and her company from the noonday sunlight, two armed guards, and Anna.

The ceremony of it all tired her, she would much prefer to take the secret corridor through her private chambers, knowing that it would be faster and she could do it without the escort or her mask on.

As they turned a corner around the Palazzo, Alarik’s lab came into view and Elsa could not help the smile that turned up the corners of her lips. It had been a month since they began this arrangement of theirs and though it was hard to keep it a secret from the rest of the staff, Goddess knows there is barely a second when the Duchessa is ever alone, they had surprisingly pulled it off.

In the moments after Ducal Senate meetings or before dinner or just before she would be fetched by her ladies-in-waiting in the mornings, any opportunity they could find to be alone they took. And of course they always had the evenings, when he would sneak into her rooms via the secret tunnel from his lab, or vice versa. Just the two of them, sharing kisses and lingering touches or sometimes even just talking, about his day or hers but never about politics and her duties as a Duchessa. Sometimes the weight of their secret weighed heavily on her chest, but she had promised him a month and now that they had their time, she supposed it was time to finally tell everyone the truth.

When they finally reached the lab, Alarik was already waiting outside, his auburn curls gleaming in the sunlight. He bowed deeply upon seeing her first, then proceeded to offer a smaller bow before Anna. Once he had straightened he looked her straight in the eyes, the expression on his face caused her brows to furrow in concern behind her mask. Something was wrong.

“Your Majesty, if it pleases you, I would like to discuss something in private with you inside.” Alarik’s face was oddly blank, his eyes seemed hollow and his skin looked paler even under the sunlight.

Elsa glanced warily at her company of escorts before nodding in assent, reminding herself to keep her actions slow and calm. As she stepped forward, she was very aware of Anna beside her, taking a step forward as well. Turning to face her sister, Elsa managed a small smile as she placed a gloved hand on her sister’s shoulders.

“I think this is something I need to discuss with the Senator alone, please go back to the Palazzo Anna.”

“Huh? But I really wanted to–”

Before her sister could finish, Elsa squeezed Anna’s shoulder slightly and widened her eyes behind the mask, hoping her sister could take the hint.

Anna’s face fell infinitesimally, but her lower lip thinned and that familiar determined look flashed across her eyes. She nodded before smiling warmly at Elsa.

“Alright, Elsa.”

“Thank you.”

Elsa waited with Alarik while she watched her escort walk back to the Palazzo, the backs of their hands grazing as they stood in silence. Once she had seen the last of the footmen enter through the Palazzo’s double doors, she heaved a sigh of relief and offered a smile to Alarik. Her smile quickly faded however, when she saw that the grim expression on his face still hadn’t faded.

“Alarik, what’s wrong?”

“Come here.”

Taking her hand, Alarik led her inside, straight to his vast set of mirrors. Unlike normal mirrors, Alarik’s mirrors did not show one’s reflection, rather they reflected the different city states of Talia, ensuring that Alarik could observe what went on throughout their entire country.

This was his ability, among many, as a stravagante.

Turning a few knobs, Alarik directed her attention to one of the mirrors that was focused on Fortezza, at one of the Grand Palazzos of the Di Meridione, one of the oldest and largest ruling families in Talia. The Di Meridione family boasted of thirteen brothers, twelve of whom all held a seat of power in each Talian city state. All except the youngest.

“Is that Hans?” Elsa asked, as she reached up a hand and quickly unfastened the ribbon that tied her mask to her face.

The image reflected in the mirror was of Hans, in his brother Giacomo’s palace in Fortezza, both brothers were engaged in what seemed to be a very serious discussion. On the table before them were half-filled goblets of wine but what really grabbed Elsa’s attention, was the object they were pouring over.

A map of Bellezza.

She felt a chill settle in the pit of her stomach, one that creeped up her spine and cast a deep dread into her bones. “Dia,” she whispered, the three fingers of her right hand immediately coming together as she pressed them to her forehead, her lips, then her chest.

“Nothing is certain yet,” Alarik murmured beside her, turning more knobs so that they could get a clearer view of what the brothers were planning. The downside of the mirrors was that they could hear nothing.

Elsa walked away from the mirrors and began pacing nervously, crossing her hands over her chest and repeatedly rubbing at her upper arms. The flash of greed in Hans’ eyes during the feast at her Marriage of the Sea a month ago kept repeating itself in her mind.

“No, no he is the only Di Meridione without a throne in Talia, and Bellezza is the only city state not under Di Meridione rule. All the nobles can gossip about is how much he’s been eyeing this city state for years.”

Behind her, Alarik’s eyes followed Elsa as her pace quickened, walking back and forth across his lab like a woman possessed. Forcing a weak smile on his face, he leaned back carefully against one of the mirrors, “since when have you ever taken court gossip seriously?” He tried to make his voice light, but he knew he could hear the worry in his voice, and winced when she glared exasperatedly at him.

He let her pace around some more, knowing full well that when she was like this, she needed to calm down on her own. As she paced he thought he could hear her muttering something to herself, but he couldn’t quite make it out. In addition, the temperature in his lab dropped by a few degrees and he turned his eyes toward the open windows. A cold breeze from the waterfront must have blown in, but judging by the state Elsa was in, he knew better.

“Well it would be impossible for Hans to take Bellezza anyway, Bellezzan politics states that a woman must sit on the throne.” Alarik began, walking over beside her and staring at his hands.

“There have always been ways around things like that,” Elsa murmured, her voice low and defeated, something like resignation weighing down on her shoulders like lead and making her hunch into herself. “All Hans has to do is marry a noblewoman of Bellezza, get me out of the way, and enter her in the elections to be the new Duchessa. Knowing the Di Mediones, they will find a way for her to win, and once she does he will be Duke Consort.”

The look Elsa gave him then was enough to break his heart.

“She’ll be the one on the throne but we all know who will be pulling the strings,” she finished sadly, looking away from Alarik and back at the mirrors, where Hans and his brother were now drinking their wine as they mulled over the map of her beloved city.

Walking hesitantly toward her, he reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks and turning her to face him, running a finger across the indentation her mask left on her skin. “It will be fine, whatever they may be planning, we can handle it between the two of us.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with worry and doubt, “How are you so sure?”

He hesitated at that, unsure of what to say because he really didn’t know himself and though he tried to keep his face impassive, he knew she could see that uncertainty in his eyes.

“How?” she asked again, her voice slightly louder and shakier.

When he still didn’t answer, she walked away from him and turned to face the mirrors, her eyes trained on Hans and that familiar glint of greed in his eyes as he pointed at a spot on the Bellezzan map and consulted his brother.

Unconsciously, she began rubbing at her arms again, trying to distract herself from the unsettling dread that settled like a rock in her stomach. That glint of malice in Hans’ eyes, she could practically see his plans unfurling before him almost like the mirror was allowing her a glimpse into his mind. He would arrange for a visit sometime in the next year, as a gracious Duchessa who can’t afford to disrespect or anger a member of one of the oldest noble families in the country she would accommodate him. He would stay for as long as he possibly could, charming his way through the city, inserting himself into court life until all the people loved him, marry a Bellezzan girl and claim his citizenship.

Then he would begin, thinly veiled threats aimed at her during dinner, or at court meetings, or anywhere public where she wouldn’t be able to do anything except smile and play along with his little game. Threats against her staff, her senators, Kristoff, Neta, Alarik.

Anna.

Anna.

Dead on the palazzo floor. Poison, or arson, or a quick slide of a Merlino blade, right across their throats.

Like their parents, the blood from their slit throats pooling on the wooden floor of their Burlesca home, sightless eyes staring up at her, as her eighteen year old self desperately tried to shake them awake, all while telling Anna to “stay away!” Elsa had laid her cloak over their parents’ faces, their necks, before Anna could get any closer.

Early into her rule as Duchessa, Gerda had confided in her that their parents had moved the family from Bellezza to Burlesca to keep her powers a secret, keep Elsa protected from the more superstitious Bellezzans, at least while she still learned to control it. She had been three when they did, Anna still on the way, the stress and excitement of the new baby causing unpredictable outbursts of snow and ice. In the smaller island, away from the city, her powers had grown, thrived as she and Anna played amongst the streets lined with candy colored houses, the scent of their father’s cake shop wafting from their snow colored home, the only white house on the island. There they had been safe, in the little island of their childhood. Houses of every color, as numerous as the cakes in Papa’s shop, Mama sitting on the porch of their silly white home and teaching them how to make fine lace.

Their parents were dead before Papa could pass on most of his recipes, before Mama could finish the lace lining Anna’s very first mask.

A dusting of powdered sugar, from his famous lemon cakes, was still sprinkled across Papa’s moustache, snowy white powder with flecks of crimson.

The lace that would have lined Anna’s first mask was stained with their blood, still clutched in Mama’s hands.

Who would be next?

Everyone, probably.

Everyone Elsa had ever let herself love, ever let into her heart.

All because of her.

“We’ll lock the gates.”

“What?” Alarik asked, when it seemed she had said it out loud.

Her head turned quickly towards him, she winced when he flinched, caught her reflection in one of the mirrors behind him, the one and only regular mirror. She could see her own eyes blazing, hard and unforgiving. Every inch the Duchessa. All she was. All she would ever be.

She was a fool to think she could ever be Just Elsa.


	3. Chapter 2

“You’re doing _what?_ ” Anna shrieked, after Elsa finished telling her everything.

“Anna, what am I _supposed_ to do?” Elsa asked, pacing the length of her bedroom. The room was getting colder by the minute, at least, that’s what it looked like, judging from Anna’s shivers. She took a shaky breath, willed herself to count to ten. At least Anna’s shivers seemed to ease, after a moment.

“Elsa, people love Bellezza, we can’t close out the entire city!”

“And we wont. Once a year. The Marriage with the Sea.” On the day after the Marriage to the Sea, nobody not born of Bellezza was allowed to be in the city anyway, at least just for that day, the Giornata Vietata. But when the last of next year’s marriage’s fireworks ended, when the boats would take all non Bellezzans away from the city, the boats would take them away for the rest of the year. The Marriage was a sacred tradition, almost a pilgrimage, so it was not something Elsa could ever take away from anyone, Bellezzan or not.

It would make the festivities all the more special anyway, if that was the only time when outsiders could come.

“Elsa, _please_ , we can’t live like this!”

She turned to Anna, who was staring at her with wide, pleading eyes, clutching Elsa’s mask that she had removed as soon as she entered the room. Elsa knew full well that Anna, her free spirited bird of a little sister, didn’t want a life trapped by stone walls. Anna needed people to meet, things outside to see, fresh air and sunshine. An island. She took a shaky breath, facing Anna once more. “I know you can’t. That’s why you’re going to Torrone.” 

The neighboring island off the coast was close enough for Elsa to have her close by, keep correspondence, but that island was as safe for Anna as any fortress. The people of Torrone have not had a child there on the island since they took Kristoff in, surely they would take in him and his family.

“Hans can’t touch you there. Not if Kristoff’s family has anything to say about it,” she told Anna. Elsa would let everyone know that Anna was being sent as ambassador, somewhere far off, Norvegia perhaps. With Anna’s love of people and culture, it wasn’t unlikely. “Kristoff’s family would never let anything happen to you, or him and Neta.” They would be happy there on Torrone. And they would be safe. All that mattered. All that ever mattered. With or without Elsa. “Anna, I need you safe. After what happened to Mama and Papa…”

“You don’t get to bring Mama and Papa into this!”

“And what of Neta?” Elsa asked, eyes blazing. “Would you have her become an orphan, as we did?

”Anna had had her mouth open, ready to make another retort,but closed it at the mention of her young daughter. She fiddled with Elsa’s mask in her hands, one made of Burlescan lace- the last mask Mama had made for Elsa before her death.

Elsa looked to the window, where they could see Neta and Kristoff playing in the courtyard below. “Neta shouldn’t have to see her parents dead! Not like we did! Anna please!” Her hands were trembling now, flurries of snow escaping from her fingertips.

“ And what about you?” Anna asked, letting the mask fall to the floor so that she could take Elsa’s hands in hers. Elsa was thankful for the warmth.

And her? What did it matter? She would be the good girl, keep the peace in the city, keep Bellezza prosperous and thriving, the Marriage to the Sea happening year, after year, after year. She accepted Anna’s embrace, sinking into her hold and letting the weight of it all press down on her. “I’m the Duchessa.” she whispered, voice cracking as she buried her face into Anna’s hair.

Anna kissed her forehead, wiped the tears from Elsa’s eyes. “Viva la Duchessa.” She lifted Elsa’s chin, so that Elsa’s eyes would meet hers. “Everything will turn out alright. You’ll see.”

***

When the last of the goodbyes had been said, tearful embraces exchanged, promises of letters given…Elsa watched as the boat sailed off with what remained of her family, Anna, Kristoff, Neta waving from the boat, until even their silhouettes faded into the mist of the lagoon.

And so she quickly found her way to her chambers, shut the door, ripped off her mask, her uncomfortable, wretched, accursed mask, and cried long into the night, tears staining the silk of her pillows.

“Darling?” came Alarik’s soft voice, from the open doorway of the passage from his lab to her chambers. He was by her side in an instant, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

_Darling._ She didn’t deserve that either. Or his comfort, or his touch, or his trust. Or him.

“Don’t call me that.” She muttered into the pillows, burying her face even deeper into it.

“Elsa,” he said, inching closer to her, but otherwise letting her be. “How long will Anna be gone, truthfully?”

As long as her powers weren’t completely under control, as long as Hans could accuse her of being a witch and have her burned at the stake, as long as Anna and her beloved city were still in danger if Elsa stepped down or were disposed of- Anna would be gone. She would return when Elsa could finally keep things under control. “Probably forever.” she said, voice cracking at the end.

“You don’t know that. There are things even we haven’t considered, despite what we’ve seen in the mirrors, things out of our control-”

Control? Nothing in her life was in control, everything she had so carefully built her life upon was crumbling to pieces around her- her duty, her family, the love she had finally allowed herself to have…

“We have to end this.” she finally said, finally turning to look at him.

“…I’m sorry?”

She sat up, forced herself to look him in the eye, despite the confusion she could see reflected in them. She wanted to look away, before she could see the hurt that was about to show in his eyes. This was going to hurt, her and him. Always and forever, all she ever did was hurt. “This. Us. We can’t be an ‘us’ anymore.”

Elsa wanted to explain, tell him it was too dangerous, he would have a target painted on his forehead if anyone were to know about them, she would lose him too. Everyone knew of her love for her family, but they were safe, safe in Torrone, surely their boat already made it to the island, to the welcoming arms of Kristoff’s family. If Hans ever found out about her and her senator, wished to use him as leverage….there would be nowhere for Alarik to run.

She tried to tell him all these things, but all that came out was a choked sob, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing into them. Until she felt his own hands gently pull them away from her eyes, his long fingers stroking hers. He pressed a kiss to them.

His eyes were sad, but they were dry, a small mercy. “As you wish.”

He moved towards the passage, towards the dark halls that would lead him back to his lab.

***

The next morning, Elsa sat in her study, finishing filing reports, reviewing petitions from her people, signing the last of the necessary documents needing her signature. She put her pen down, rubbing her aching temples. Her eyes caught sight of a piece of parchment under the one she had just signed.

_~~Addressed to Her Majesty,~~ _

_~~Ruler of Bellezza, Torrone, Burlesca, and Merlino,~~ _

_~~Chosen by the people of the Goddess,~~ _

_~~Under the Ram:~~ _

_Elsa–_

_By the time you read this, I will probably already have left. I took the liberty of delivering this letter myself. It seemed safer this way._

_A few days ago, I had received word from my fellow stravagante in Padavia that there may be a breakthrough in new ways of how we stravagate. Ways that may not need talismans. Ways that could finally stabilize the time leap between our dimension and the other._

_I had meant to assist their efforts through the mirrors but, in light of the recent understanding between us, I think it would be better, easier, for the both of us if I leave. I can head Padavia to study these new methods with my fellow stravagante and you can stay here to protect the city from the Di Meridione._

_Maybe there, in the pathways between two dimensions, I can even find answers about your powers._

_~~Should my assistance~~ I do not know when I will return, a study of this importance could take months, maybe longer._

_I’ve sent letters to my trusted friends within the Senate, Senators Filippo and Pietro, among others. I’ve told them a skeleton of the truth, that I’ve taken an indefinite leave from the Senate to do important work in Padavia. They think I’ll be teaching at the University. I’ve spread the work I’ve left behind amongst them and I trust that they can carry out my duties as well as I could ever hope to._

_I will be staying in my old lodgings in Padavia should you or anyone in Bellezza need to reach me via correspondence._

_Goddess be with you, Duchessa._

_–Alarik_  
  
Her hands shook when she finished reading, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into a hidden drawer, beside the first of her letters from Anna. They had made it to Torrone just fine, Bulda was particularly taken with Neta, and Kristoff was enjoying being around his family once more.

Safe, they were all safe. Anna, Kristoff, Neta. Even Alarik, it didn’t matter so much as to where he was, so much as people only knew him as her senator. Nothing more. And her family was where they couldn’t be touched. This was what she wanted, she should be happy.

Instead, she felt only a sickening feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach.

***

After several weeks since Anna’s departure, Elsa told Gerda to tell her ladies in waiting to no longer see to the Duchessa early in the morning, she only allowed the matronly old woman to see to her, help her prepare for the day.

Elsa preferred to dress herself, only allowing Gerda to tie her mask for her, pin her hair up.

She quite liked the monotony of it all, normally exchanging pleasantries, news of the day, Elsa telling her the contents of Anna’s letters. If she pretended hard enough, she could pretend she was back in her childhood, in Burlesca, Anna off in school, father in his cake shop, mother making lace on the porch. She normally asked Gerda to keep the windows open in the morning, so that she could hear the water, the sound of it reminding her so much of her old home, of her old life.

Today, she was dressed in only her skirt and half laced bodice, clutching a chamber pot and leaning forward to empty her breakfast into it. She wiped a shaky hand at her mouth, frost forming around the pot’s opening. She only looked up, turned teary eyes towards her, when Gerda finished lacing up her dress, difficult as it were, when Elsa could normally do it herself.

Just when she finally thought everyone that needed to be protected was safe…here was yet another one in danger. More vulnerable than the others had ever been, or ever will be.

An innocent child deserved better than this mess Elsa just dragged it into.


	4. Chapter 3

_Seven months later_

A sharp bolt of pain coursed through her body enough to wake her up. Instead of sitting up like she wanted to do, she curled up on her side, gasping in pain as fingers clenched at her pillow and her nightgown. The temperature in her bedroom went down faster than she could control it, a flurry of snowflakes began swirling about her head as a thin sheet of ice began spreading from where her fingers touched the pillowcase.

Despite her thick curtains and the drapes along her bed, she figured it was probably late in the afternoon. The warm temperature in her room attested to that.

Unconsciously, her fingers flew to her stomach, and the weight of the past day raced through her mind. She stifled a sob as she pressed her fingers against her still swollen abdomen, empty now. Grasping her bedpost, she stood up gingerly, grabbing her dressing gown from a nearby chair as she made her way towards the door of her room.

Elsa made no sound when she padded down the stairs of the palace, ice forming beneath the silk of her slippers. It was late, the ice would be long gone before it could be discovered, turned to water on the cobblestones, melted by the bright Talian sun.

She wondered if things would ever be bright once more.

There was frost on the walls, from all the times she had pressed her hand to it. She could barely walk a few feet before doubling over, the residual pain from the birth less than twenty four hours past becoming almost too much for her. Eventually, she resigned herself to clutching the stairs’ banisters for support, the trail of ice and snow following her walk of shame.

Her skirt billowed in the breeze, as it often did, the cut of it had effectively hidden her pregnancy for the better part of it, before she had had to claim ill once she had gotten closer to the birth. The people knew their Duchessa to be a recluse, preferring not to join social gatherings unless absolutely necessary. But with Anna’s absence, Anna was the one who was good with that sort of thing, even Elsa’s absence would be noticed, had Gerda not come up with various excuses for her.

Finally, finally she made it to the canals, the waterways that started from a private docking area by her palace, leading to the rest of the city’s maze of water, eventually leading to the sea. Only the duchessa and her guests ever used this one, the only mandola in sight was that of her own, floating in the still waters, grand, still, and silent. Not a tourist or a mandolier in sight. Certainly not her former mandoliering candidate.

She fell to her knees, as if begging the goddess for her forgiveness, paying no heed to the grime that would coat her nightgown, it already took all of the little energy she had to make the short walk from her chambers. From here, she was surrounded by the pristine waters of the canal, but she knew that when it turned past the archways of marble and stone, the water would become murky and the arches, made of the trappings of her palace life, would lead to brick houses of every shape and color and size. The mandola carrying Gerda and the child had left nearly a full day ago, before the first few rays of dawn could even light their way.

Elsa’s labor had begun a few hours past the previous dawn, her waters breaking as Gerda helped her dress. As hours passed, a blur of pain and tears with still no sign of the child, Gerda had wanted to send for a midwife, but Elsa sobbed and pleaded against it- nobody else must know.

It was better that the child had finally been born in the dead of night, despite Elsa’s fears that her own agonized cries could be heard through the quiet halls of the palazzo. She had had blankets stuffed through every door crack and the windows tightly shut as she clutched fistfuls of frozen blanket, her wails lasting longer than she ever thought possible, before tapering off into a desperate, whimpering pant. At least the darkness offered concealment for when they made their journey to Torrone. The sun would have risen by the time they arrived to her sister.

Elsa had stayed behind, had her curtains drawn, and let the darkness have her as she wept. For the entire day, she had not seen the sun, only imagining the look on her beloved sister’s face when the child finally arrived at her home, a companion-almost a sibling, for Neta, and another child for them. Anna deserved the light that Elsa would never let herself have. The excitement of the arrival had probably long died down, the revelry of the island’s first baby in over twenty years giving way to the baby’s first quiet evening in its new home.

And now, now Elsa looked at her hands that clutched the harbor’s railing, frost forming at her fingertips and running up her arms. Arms that never even got to hold her child.

_I left a name and a letter, and was foolish enough to think that would ever be enough._

She almost regretted her decision, until she remembered her sister, cold and still in her arms.

Frost settled on her hands and arms, and she decided that maybe it was for the best. An innocent child deserved better than a mother whose arms will be too cold to hold it. And everyone Elsa loved deserved better than being made a target. If they couldn’t expose her powers, have her tried as a witch, the Di Meridione family wouldn’t target Elsa, not in the same way, no they would try to come for her through other means, politics and deception and negotiation and lies. That she could handle. But her loved ones being put in danger, pulled into the spider web that is Talian court politics, that was a cross that she could never bear. She had worked so hard to keep everyone else out of it, and she had failed them all.

She started when warm hands started running up and down her arms, rubbing away the cold and the frost. “When did you get back?” she asked, wrenching herself away from him. She couldn’t even look at him, and it had nothing to do with trying to hide her tears. Here was one more person she had hurt, always and forever, all she ever did was hurt.

“Just a few hours ago.” Alarik said, crouching beside her. “There’s a mirror trained here, you know that.” All of the mirrors were trained on places Elsa had given approval of, the halls, the room of mirrors, and none of the bedrooms. It was only he whom she could trust with where to train each looking glass. He had always kept at least one mirror trained by the private waterways, so no one could enter and leave the palace through there without him knowing. It was a security feature she once appreciated, but not today.

She moved away from him, but stumbled, the sharp pain in her belly hitting her like a merlino blade. She was curled up on the floor, gasping for breath. There was ice on the floor, and a thin sheet of it over the nearby water.

Alarik fell to his knees beside her, put his arms under her, and she resisted, until the pain had her again and she gave in, her back arching as he stood to carry her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” she moaned softly, over and over again, as he carried her back. Her apologies echoed through the passage from his lab to her chambers, despite his gentle shushing, comforting murmurs. He said it was okay. It wasn’t, it really, really wasn’t, he didn’t even know just how assuredly _not_ okay it was.

They finally reached her room, he laid her gently on the bed, and Elsa was thankful that Gerda had changed the sheets, destroyed the evidence of the birth just the previous evening, the blood and sweat stained sheets of her bed replaced with fresh linen, soft and scented with lavender.

When Alarik returned to the passage, she said nothing more than a thank you, before he disappeared into the darkness.

She wanted to ask him what he had been doing the entire time, or ask him to spend the night, his warm body next to hers once more.

She wanted to tell him that it was a girl.


	5. Chapter 4

_Sixteen years later_

Jenny leaned against the side of the small boat with a fervor that made the other three passengers nervous. As the grand marble spires of the Palazzo and the docks of the canals loomed nearer, she felt her excitement grow.

“Zio, can’t you row any faster?”

“I’m going–” with a grunt, her uncle swung the oars against the water and paddled them along, his arms strong and muscular from ferrying supplies from Torrone to Burlesca and Merlino, “–as fast as I can.”

“I told you, if I handled the other oar this would be faster!” Her zia exclaimed, lightly poking her husband against his ticklish side.

“Ah! Anna stop!” Kristoff exclaimed with a chuckle, scooting away from his wife without breaking rhythm. “Besides, do you remember what you did with my last boat? I’m not trusting you with this one anytime soon!”

“I replaced the last one didn’t I? Besides, I like this one better, it’s roomier. And shinier!”

Across from her zia and zio, Jenny grinned with amusement. They were always like this, which made for an amusing childhood to say the least.

“Relax Jenny,” her older cousin placed a placating hand on her knee before grabbing her own hand and interlocking their fingers together. “We’re almost there.”

“It’s a shame we can only visit once a year,” Jenny said with a sigh, allowing her other arm to hang outside the rowboat, her fingers occasionally skimming against the water’s surface, “I would visit Bellezza every day if I could.”

“So would I.” Anna replied.

Jenny turned to look at her aunt, the note of wistfulness in her zia’s voice not escaping her notice. Neither did the comforting nudge of her uncle’s arm against his wife’s, hidden carefully as him pretending to readjust the oars.

Every time they visited Bellezza, Jenny always noted how her zia would suddenly change. Her shoulders would straighten, and the first thing she always did was gaze at the Palazzo. She had tried asking her about it once, Zia Anna had simply given her a small smile and tucked the loose curl of her hair behind her ear before saying, “It’s just so beautiful.”

When they finally reached the docks, Jenny was the first one off, practically capsizing the small row boat as she clambered for the docks of Bellezza. She looked about with a smile, re-familiarizing herself with the sights and the sounds of the mandoliers ferrying goods like silk and fruits and even different passengers. Behind her, she could hear her zio and zia giving Neta a few last minute reminders before she too disembarked from the rowboat.

“Wont you stay this year?” Jenny asked, a yearly tradition she kept up since the first time her zia and zio dropped off her and Neta at Bellezza for the Marriage of the Sea. When they were still children, Bulda or one of the other Torrone natives used to take them, and Anna and Kristoff would merely wave to their daughter and niece from the shores of Torrone as they rowed off to the mainland. When Neta turned 16, Kristoff and Anna started rowing them over, especially since Bulda and the others were growing too old for the journey. Yet every time they were brought to Bellezza, Anna and Kristoff would simply drop them off and head back to Torrone, promising to come back for them after the fireworks.

As always, Jenny watched as her zia turned to look at the Palazzo, gazing at it with something akin to longing before meeting her stare once again and shaking her head softly. “Maybe next year Jenny.”

“You always say that!” She called out as her zio began paddling away. Beside her, Neta placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Take care you two!” her Aunt Anna called out instead, waving enthusiastically, “we’ll be back after the fireworks!”

As her aunt and uncle rowed farther away, Jenny felt the quick bout of disappointment give way to excitement once again. Grabbing Neta’s hand, she shared a brief grin with her before pulling her further into the harbor, stopping once she reached the port where majority of the mandoliers were anchored, waiting for cargo or passengers to hail them over.

“Always this fascination with the mandoliers,” Neta said, with a slight shake of her head as she indulged her younger cousin’s urges.

“They’re just so amazing,” Jenny replied with a sigh, staring at the canals and the mandolas with a jealousy that ran deep to her core. “I want to be a mandolier.”

“Right!” Neta said with a chuckle, looping her arm around her cousin’s and leading her away, “sure, no problem. We’ll just ask the Duchessa to break centuries of tradition for you.”

“It’s just so unfair!” Jenny leaned in closer to her cousin as they made their way to the viewing docks. There was already a small crowd gathered there, each person trying to pick the perfect spot to watch the Marriage of the sea from. “Why are men the only ones selected? I’m sure a woman mandolier would be just as capable!”

“What happens when you don your mask next year, hm little cousin? How will you be able to see properly and navigate your way through the canals with it on?”

“Just another centuries-long tradition we need to talk to the Duchessa about! Who needs masks?” Jenny countered playfully, reveling in the laughter she can bring out of her cousin.

“You know the law,” Neta said, taking on a false, deeply authoritative tone that sounded ridiculous on her. “All unmarried women must wear masks once they reach the age of sixteen.” She resumed her normal voice. “Hey, I hated wearing my mask just as much as you probably will!”

“No wonder you were so eager to marry Nikolai.” Jenny said, waggling her eyebrows. “Couldn’t wait to get rid of that stupid mask.”

“That wasn’t the reason!”

“Was too!”

“Seriously Jenny,” Neta began as her laughter faded into quiet chuckles, “you need to start thinking about something other than being a mandolier. Like joining the lace trade in Burlesca! Now that takes some skill.” Neta, ever calm and patient, had inherited their late grandmother’s lace making talents, something that Jenny lacked both skill and interest in. 

Jenny stuck her tongue out, stopping at a nearby gas lamp and leaning against its post, “The only thing I want out of life is to be a mandolier.”

“Well, good luck with that!” Neta replied with a laugh and a quick pinch to her cheeks before walking ahead of her.

“Oh, I have more than luck,” Jenny muttered to herself, a mischievous little smile quirking up her lips before she ran ahead to catch up with Neta. 

“Come on!” Neta cried, gesturing towards the mouth of the Grand Canal. “Look, the Barcone’s already there!”

The ceremonial barge floated along the water, the stately scarlet and silver boat that held the Duchessa inside it as she made her way to the annual Marriage to the Sea. The Barcone made its way past the ebullient crowds, shouts of “Viva la Duchessa!” ringing through the air. 

All of the people in the crowd made it hard to catch a glimpse of the Barcone, and when they were younger, Neta used to simply hoist Jenny on her shoulders so that the younger girl could get a better look. Of course, Jenny was too big for that now. She was nearly sixteen years old.

From their vantage point, they could see the Duchessa, masked, as always, in a gown of blue and silver that billowed in the water as she was slowly lowered into it. Another marriage to the sea finished, promising yet another year of prosperity for the city. The people all shouted “Viva la Duchessa!”, as music began to play in the streets, and fireworks rocketed into the air, filling the Talian sky with pinwheels of color. 

“Jenny, aren’t the fireworks beautiful?” Neta sighed, eyes still on the night sky even as the last of the fireworks finished. The crowds were making their way to the docks, all non Bellezzans had to leave the city by tonight, and she had lost her Bellezan citizenship when she married. Besides, her parents trusted her to get her cousin home to Torrone on time. Neta finally tore her eyes away from the darkened sky, still grinning at the memory of the lights as she turned to face Jenny.

The blanket Jenny had been sitting on was gone. And so was…

“Jenny?”


	6. Chapter 5

Oslo, 2020

“We’ll start with your vitals, okay? Then I’ll ask about the treatment.”

Dag winced as the freezing cold stethoscope came into contact with the skin of his chest. At the moment, it felt as if his entire being was on fire. Even the very hairs on his skin seemed to hurt. Simultaneously, his muscles were like lead; every point of his body felt like it was dragging him down, deeper and deeper into the cushions of his bed until he eventually just burned right through it. In short, even breathing deeply for Dr. Andersen took a herculean effort on his part.

“That’s it Dag,” his doctor encouraged, “just take it easy buddy.”

When the check-up ended, Dag watched as his doctor noted a few things on his clipboard, the furrow between Dr. Andersen’s eyebrows was far from comforting.

“Well,” the doctor began, fixing Dag with a practiced stare of ease, “your blood pressure has definitely improved from last week, but it’s still pretty low, so we might have to change your dosage ok?”

Dag nodded calmly, he was used to this kind of news by now.

“How do you feel with the current dosage?” Dr. Andersen asked, pen already poised at the ready to note down whatever Dag said.

He wanted to shrug, but the pain was bordering on paralyzing, so all he could manage was another wince. “It’s–” he suddenly became acutely aware of how dry his throat was, his entire mouth felt like a desert. Reaching for the glass of water at his night stand, he took a long sip before continuing.

“Sorry,” Dag said as he set the glass down again, “uhm, the dosage now is, uh, ok i guess? The burning feeling is still there, but after the sessions I usually feel a lot better than I have in weeks.”

Dr. Andersen nodded, noting something down before giving Dag a friendly smile, “that’s good, it must be working then. Any trouble sleeping?”

“Not really.”

Dr. Andersen placed a warm hand on his shoulder before standing up, “This is some good progress then! We’ll try out the new dosage next week and if that starts to stabilize your blood pressure then we could be wrapping up your chemo by the end of the month!”

The promise of a full bill of health was a fleeting hope Dag had never allowed himself to cling to. He had been disappointed too many times. Still, the thought of not needing chemo anymore was a nice one.

That evening, Kai, the house parent in the orphanage, came up to Dag’s room. “Got something for you, found it in one of the secondhand bookshops, they said it was from Italy,” he said, bringing out a thin notebook with a beautiful marbled cover, dark blues of every shade swirled on the cover, looking like the colors of a lagoon. “You could write down what you want to say to us when your throat hurts.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Dag said as Kai’s voice droned on in a comforting sort of way. He turned the notebook over in his hands, fingers tracing over the smooth curves and whorls lined faint silver, a part of him was reminded of ice. The repetitive elegance of it that one saw in snowflakes or ice crystals. It was comforting in a way. 

After Kai left, he flipped through the blank pages with cold fingers, the faint smell of parchment and something else filling his nose. Dag brought the notebook closer to his face, inhaling deeply. If he focused just enough, he could pick out the scents of leather and wood, even faint traces of the glue used to bind the notebook together. Beneath all of that, was a sweeter scent still, something inside him whispering that it was the smell of the sea. 

When he closed his eyes, he could picture it. A lone craftsman, toiling with callused hands day in and day out, making notebook after beautiful notebook. The sound of the water lapping outside his workshop. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep, the notebook still in his hands.

***

In the state cabin of the Barcone, the real duchessa, already dressed in a resplendent dress of pale blue and silver, sat in front of the cabin mirror as her two attendants finished putting up her pale hair in elaborate coils, pinning pins of freshwater pearls onto her hair.

“What’s the name of the girl this year?” she asked.

“Giuliana, your grace,” said her attendant, as a bedraggled and soaking wet girl was brought into the room, wearing the same clothes that the “duchessa” had been wearing during the Marriage to the Sea.

“You’ll want to get out of those wet things, dear,” Elsa said, smiling at the young girl who was this year’s body double. “Wouldn’t want you catching your death with a cold.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Giuliana, sneezing as she was helped into a fluffy robe by another attendant.

“Well done, Giuliana,” said Elsa, “now, I trust you know the terms of the agreement?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Giuliana.

“Repeat them, if you please.”

“I am not to tell anyone of how I went into the water instead of Your Grace. If I do, I will be banished from Bellezza, along with my entire family.”

“A barbarous custom” Elsa thought to herself. “Well done, child. And in return, you shall receive your compensation,” she said, gesturing towards an attendant, who handed Giuliana a pouch filled with silver.

***

In the end, it wasn’t all that hard escaping her cousin. Everyone was always so transfixed during the Marriage that all Jenny had to do was wait for the exact right moment to slip out of view. She crossed herself silently as she quickly walked away from Neta and their blankets, apologizing to her poor cousin in her head again and again until the words blended together and lost all meaning. She dodged through crowds of onlookers with swift feet, chancing a glance over her shoulder every so often.

Only when it was safe enough, when the palazzo was in clear view did she slow down and allow herself a moment’s rest. 

Jenny watched the procession from behind the tall columns of the Palazzo, straining her eyes towards the mouth of the canal. Finally, the Barcone arrived, carrying the duchessa, having just finished her nineteenth Marriage to the Sea.

If all went according to plan by the following year, duchessa’s Platinum anniversary- her twentieth Marriage to the Sea, she would be a Mandolier. Of course there were other plans she had too, but she’ll have to worry about those later. 

In the shadows, Jenny changed into her rough clothes for her boy’s disguise while everyone was busy staring up into the sky during the fireworks. She put on the rough cotton shirt and trousers, adding a vest that used to belong to her zio when he was young. She finished it off by tucking her long red waves in a woolen fisherman’s cap. At first she had thought to throw out her dress, it was easier to blend in when she didn’t have to explain why she had a girl’s dress in her bag. But her aunt had helped sew the lace trimming for that particular dress. In the end, it ended up safe in her bag, hastily stuffed right next to her shoes and hair ribbons. 

Now, all she needed was to find a place to sleep for the night, and come the next day, she would join the duchessa’s mandoliers.

*~*


	7. Chapter 6

He was used to waking up to a cacophony of voices. Even after the orphanage moved him to a personal room in a completely different wing, there was no blocking out the sound of twenty or so boys and girls all waking up and getting ready together in the morning.

However, this wasn’t that.

When Dag opened his eyes, it was to the sound of men and women laughing heartily, glasses and bottles clinking together, and the scrape of wooden tables and chairs against a cobbled street.

He also wasn’t in the orphanage anymore. Instead, he was in a secluded street corner in between what looked to be an old tavern and an inn.

Must be a dream, he thought. Standing up and dusting himself off. As he did so, he heard a clatter near his feet and looked down to see the marbled notebook Kai had given him. He picked up and quickly stuffed it into the waistband of his pajama trousers.

When he stepped out of the corner and into the street, the first thing that hit him was the feel of warm morning sun against his skin. He hadn’t realized how long he’d gone without really feeling the sun, ever since the diagnosis he was either in his room or in the hospital, with only the harsh, cold glow of fluorescents keeping him company. But here, now, the feel of sunlight was a marvel. He smiled up at the sky and basked in the glow of it.

He usually had dreams where he was cancer-free. The hospital therapist told him it was his mind’s way of coping with the disease. In those dreams though, he was either in a normal school, with other kids his age, or in the orphanage. So this was entirely new, but not unwelcome.

Hesitantly, Dag lifted a trembling hand to the top of his head. The feel of hair between his fingers was so lifelike he almost had to choke back a sob. He remembered how sad he was when they had to shave it off, it felt like the final blow to the beginning of the end of his life. So even if it was only a dream, he savored the feel of it, thick brown curls that coiled playfully about his fingers.

As he walked past the cobbled streets, he could see a maze of what appeared to be canals instead of streets, and he had to cross a few bridges as he further explored his surroundings.

Suddenly, he smelled something delicious coming from the next corner. As he turned into a different street, his jaw dropped as he saw rows and rows of stalls selling more food than he’d ever seen. The smell alone made his mouth water. Ever since he got sick, he rarely had an appetite for anything, usually having trouble keeping down even a bowl of oatmeal. But here, he suddenly felt ravenous as he saw all the food being offered.

First there were rows and rows of stalls selling fresh produce, apples, pears, and plump peaches that were smooth to the touch. There were also heads of cabbage as large as his face, peppers and carrots of every color, and juicy tomatoes he was sure wouldn’t fit in the palm of his hand. Then, further down, vendors selling roasted nuts and aged cheeses; salty and tangy scents mixing with sweet and earthy.

Lining the other side of the street were more taverns like the ones he woke up next to, these offered an entirely different set of aromas. Even from the outside he could smell the mouth-watering scent of meat roasting over an open fire. A few doors away, he spotted a strong-armed woman, kneading a large mass of dough on a rickety wooden table. Beside her was a stall lined with sweet smelling breads and pastries, some of them glazed to a shine with melted sugar and topped with fruit that looked too good to even be real.

He could smell pasta sauce bubbling in a large pot nearby, the unmistakable blend of tomatoes, peppers, and herbs bubbling away was the final straw for his poor stomach, which grumbled loud enough for him to hear.

Dag didn’t think it was possible to actually feel hungry in a dream, but who was he to question it? “Best dream ever,” he mumbled to himself as he gave a turn and tried to decide what to eat first. He wondered if his brain would be able to recreate the memory of all the foods he saw in front of him or if everything would disappointedly taste of watered down oatmeal and boiled chicken.

There was only one way to find out. He walked to the nearest fruit stall and ran a finger along his choices, his eyes darting from the golden pears to the juicy looking peaches. Another soft grumble of his stomach had him deciding on the latter. He eyed the peaches eagerly and licked his lips in anticipation.

He was about to reach for one when an arm came out of nowhere and pulled him into an alleyway.

“What are you doing?” a teenage boy hissed as he looked around them to make sure the coast was clear. “Are you mad? You could get yourself killed!”

“I HAVE NO MONEY!” Dag screeched, raising his hands, “PLEASE DON’T MUG ME. I’M SORRY ABOUT THE PEACH!”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “what are you going on about?” he asked.

Dag kept his hands raised. “Look man, I’d give you my wallet, but we don’t exactly get much of an allowance at the orphanage, although I do have a cellphone, but I don’t have it on me now considering I’m in my pajamas!”

The boy huffed, yanking him further into the dark alleyway.

“Ow!” Dag cried. “Wait…how did I feel that?”

“Gonna get us BOTH killed, you flaunting those weird alien clothes of yours, talking nonsense. Now, you’re obviously not Bellezzan, so unless you wanna get us both killed for being in the city on The Forbidden Day, you’re gonna change into these clothes.”

The boy proceeded to strip off his brown woolen vest and thrust it into Dag’s hands before proceeding to shed his brown trousers as well. Dag opened his mouth to ask what exactly was going on when, in the process of shucking off the trousers, the other boy’s hat fell off his head, revealing a long wave red hair sitting atop what was now clearly a very feminine face.

Oh.

Dag pointedly and respectfully looked away for the rest of it. When she finally emerged from the shadows, it was in a pretty olive green dress, trimmed with an intricate lace that lined the hem and the collar. She shoved the rest of her boy clothes into his hands and shoved him deeper into the alleyway with brusque instructions to change and quickly.

Even though his dream had taken a weird turn, Dag shrugged and did what she told him to anyway, not really in a mood to argue. Blessedly, her clothes fit him pretty well, even though the cloth of the trousers felt a bit itchy around his waist. He also remembered to stow the marbled notebook from Kai in the pocket of his trousers. When he emerged, she was waiting by the corner, arms crossed over her chest and a disappointed frown on her face.

“Not bad, topolino.” She said, before grabbing him by the shoulder and stirring him towards the bakery where the woman had been kneading dough earlier. “Since you ruined my plans, I deserve to know where you came from and what you’re doing here on the Forbidden Day.”

“You sit over there,” the girl said, pointing towards a more secluded table by the corner of the bakery. “I’ll get us something to eat, I’m starving.”

Dag obediently sat down at the table and waited. When the girl came back, she was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate and some pastries.

“So,” the girl said, grabbing a crumbly pastry and biting into it, “what’s up with you and your weird clothes?” she asked through a mouthful of food.

“Those were…my night clothes?” Dag said hesitantly. “Am I still dreaming?”

The girl suddenly reached over and pinched his arm.

“Ow!” Dag cried out, “okay I guess I’m not dreaming. Where am I? And who are you?”

The girl rolled her eyes, and took another bite of her pastry. “Name’s Jenny. My real name’s Johanna Maria, although no one is allowed to call me that,” she said, huffing, “What’s your name?”

“Dag,”

“Dag…” Jenny repeated, as if the name felt strange on her tongue. “As for where you are, first off, you’d best keep your voice DOWN with those kinds of questions, you already look enough like an outsider already without sounding like one.”

“Outside of where, exactly? And why aren’t outsiders allowed?”

“Belleza, of course,” Jenny said. “And today’s the Giornata Vietata, the Forbidden Day, the day after the Marriage to the Sea!” When she saw Dag simply staring at her, confused, she sighed and continued, “as of fifteen years ago, the city’s been closed off to outsiders except for the day of the Marriage to the Sea. On normal days, one would simply be asked to leave, but as the ancient tradition goes, if any non Bellezan were found in the city on the Forbidden Day, you would be put to death. Not that anyone in living memory’s ever dared try, of course.”

“So why are you here?”

Jenny leaned in close and whispered, “don’t you think it’s a little unfair that only boys get to be mandoliers?” she leaned back and waited, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Dag shrugged. “What’s a mandolier?”

“Someone in charge of the mandola, naturally!” Jenny said. “The duchessa only chooses the best looking ones, and they make a fortune! And it’s so unfair that only boys get to be mandoliers! The city is ruled by a woman, after all!”

“By who?”

Jenny looked at him like he had grown a second head. “You really don’t know who the Duchessa is?”

“Honestly, just assume I don’t know anything, at this point.”

Jenny put down her pastry and sighed. “The Duchessa is the one who rules all of Bellezza.”

“So is she like a duchess? Like, nobility or royalty?”

“The Duchessa is no mere royal,” Jenny said, matter-of-factly. “She is one step below our Goddess, chosen by the people unless a daughter succeeds her.” At this, Jenny placed her index finger, middle finger, and ring finger together, touching them to her forehead, lips, and chest solemnly. To Dag it looked like a strange sign of the cross. “Unlike the other city states, Bellezza has always been ruled by a Duchessa, and I suspect it will remain that way forever.”

Dag pondered this for a moment, not knowing how to begin processing all of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was starting to think that perhaps none of this was a dream at all. He reached out for one of the pastries, tore off a chunk and popped it into his mouth.

The buttery, flaky crust surrounding a silken custard filling practically melted in his mouth. He couldn’t ever remember tasting something that delicious before. Before he even swallowed the first bite, he had shoved the rest of it into his mouth and was reaching out for another one.

Across from him, Jenny raised an eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips quirked up in an amused smirk. “Hungry are we?”

Dag felt an embarrassed flush creep up his neck. He swallowed the rest of the pastry and wiped awkwardly at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Uhm. Sorry. Yeah I guess I am.”

“Where are you from anyway? A topolino like you with your strange clothes and great appetite.” Jenny took a sip of her hot chocolate and leaned back against her chair, “tell me your story.”

“Well, I don’t really know how my story starts…” Dag said, shrugging. “I was left on the doorstep of an orphanage in Oslo when I was just a baby, so I don’t even know my parents.” He noticed a strange look cross Jenny’s face, something like sadness and familiarity rolled into one. Dag ran a hand through his curls and sighed.

“I noticed you do that a lot? With your hair?” Jenny said, tentatively.

“Wha- really? I dunno, I guess I’m not used to having hair anymore, I guess. Where I’m from, I was really sick, and I lost all my hair. I’m probably dying.” Dag’s eyes widened, “wait, maybe this isn’t a dream, but AM I DEAD??”

Jenny reached over the table and pinched at his arm again.

“Ouch! Quit it.” Dag rubbed at the sore spot, glaring at her as she smirked at him over her hot chocolate.

“If you felt the pain then this isn’t a dream.”

He paused, staring at her dumbly. He reached up again to grasp at his hair with both hands. Now that he really thought about it, this was the healthiest he’d felt in days, months even. And even now, the taste of the pastry in his mouth still lingered, a taste he was sure he’d never encountered before in his life. If this wasn’t a dream then how was it possible? Whatever strange place this was he was totally cancer-free in it. That thought buoyed him up more than he could describe or explain.

He swallowed again, thickly. “So-so where did you say this place was again?”

Jenny rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling as she stood up and beckoned him to follow. “Come on topolino, let me tell you about the greatest place in existence.”

As they walked, she told him about Bellezza, one of several city-states in Talia. The entire city-state was made up of the main island, Bellezza, and the smaller islands across the lagoon, Merlino, Torrone, and Burlesca. While Jenny explained, Dag began making connections of his own. Like how Bellezza was a counterpart for Venice in his world, which meant that Talia must be Italy. He wondered what this world’s Norway must be like, brief flashes of Vikings crossed his mind and he held back a laugh.

Jenny also told him about how trade was Bellezza’s main industry. Each of the three islands created and exported goods like lace, glass, and steel, all of it trafficked through the main island’s ports where it would be shipped off to other parts of Talia.

“That’s where mandoliers come in!” Jenny said excitedly, a sparkle in her eye. “They ferry goods, food, and people through the canals in the city, and once they retire they are given an enormous sum by the Duchessa so they can live comfortably for the rest of their life!”

“And that was your plan was it? To pass off as a boy and become a mandolier?” They were nearing a giant dock near a large building that Jenny proclaimed was the Palazzo. Beside him, Jenny had a wistful look on her face as she stared out at the water lapping the long mandolas docked in a neat row.

“That was part of my plan,” She said, vaguely, but didn’t explain any more than that.

Ahead of them, a small crowd of well-built young men were gathered near the dock. Some of them looked about Jenny’s age, others, much older. Still, they all seemed to be waiting eagerly for something. Just then, an ornate carriage pulled by six white horses came rolling toward the docks. Surrounding the carriage was a troupe of guards all armed with swords and a shield bearing what looked like a ram on the crest. By now, a sizable crowd had gathered behind him and Jenny, and the men near the dock had stood still in anticipation.

Before he could ask, the doors of the carriage opened, and a beautiful woman dressed in fine clothes and an intricate mask stepped out. Around him, the crowd burst into applause. Dag

“That’s the duchessa.” Jenny said, low enough so only he could hear. Dag craned his neck to get a better view of Bellezza’s ruler.

Even without the mask, anyone could tell that she was lovely, a tall, svelte figure with white-blonde hair that tumbled in smooth waves down toward the middle of her back, save for the two braids that wound around her head like a crown. Her dress was a deep blue, blinding white fur lining the collar and the hem and hand-sewn jewels lining the bodice and the skirt. It looked like she was wearing the night sky. Her mask was also lined with a dark blue velvet. Shimmering diamonds outlining her eyes and the bridge of what must be an aquiline nose. In sharp contrast, and most curious of all, Dag realized she was wearing gloves. Pristine white ones that reached up to her elbows and almost reflected the light of the sun.

Dag watched as she stood before the men gathered at the dock, and slowly began pointing toward certain individuals, each of which were led away by a guard toward an adjacent building just to the side of the Palazzo.

“So, what happens after you get chosen to be a mandolier?”

“Well,” Jenny began, but was cut off when–

“You,” the Duchessa said, staring straight at them and pointing towards Dag. Her voice rang out strong and clear across the docks. “What is your name?” she asked, beckoning him towards her.

Dag felt his throat run dry. He looked to Jenny for help but she looked just as frightened as he did. Her warning earlier about non-Bellezzans getting executed on this day flashed through his mind, and he wondered if they’d both been found out. “D-Dag.” he said.

“Come over here Dag.” The Duchessa called out, motioning for him with an elegant curl of her fingers.

He tried to will his legs to move but his entire body felt like lead. Eventually, one of the Duchessa’s guards had to walk over and escort him to her. Behind him he could feel Jenny’s stare burning through a whole through the back of his head. Dag wondered, briefly, if he would be beheaded then and there. When he finally reached the thought that she was even lovelier up close.

Instead of ordering his execution though, the Duchessa smiled at him.

“You remind me of someone…”, she said softly, almost to herself, lifting his chin and nodding. He realized, belatedly, that her fingers felt cold through her gloves. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely, Dag. Congratulations. Welcome to the Scuola.”

“Wait, what?” Dag squeaked.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Jenny said, her voice lost in the crowd as the people cheered on the handsome new mandoliering candidate as he was ushered towards the rest of the successful candidates.

People were thronging all around him, offering handshakes and hugs, some women giving him kisses on each cheek. Dag tried to find Jenny through the crowd, but when he finally caught sight of her, he only saw her glaring at him as he was whisked away with the other candidates. The last he saw of her was the sight of her hair as she turned around and left him, all alone in this strange place.

He tried to chase after her, but another guard took him by the shoulders and led him to the building where all the other candidates selected earlier were selecting bunks and chatting excitedly amongst himself. The building looked like a large barn, outfitted with simple beds that had one large trunk right beside it.

“Choose your bed and rest well.” The guard beside him said, “Tomorrow you begin your training as a mandolier.”

He walked around timidly, staring at the lean men around him and wondering just what exactly he’d gotten himself into. He found an unoccupied bed near the corner of the space and sat on it, wondering if he’d be found out the next day. He also thought of Jenny, wondering if she was okay, and if he’d see her again.

Something hard near his rump made his position uncomfortable, he squirmed around for a bit and reached behind him to pull out the marbled notebook from the pocket of his trousers. The sight of it comforted him slightly. Holding it close, he shut his eyes and tried to calm the panicked racing of his heart.

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jenny's nickname for Dag, "topolino" is Italian for "baby mouse"!


	8. Chapter 7

When Dag opened his eyes, he half expected to find himself still in the mandolier’s quarters in Bellezza. So when he saw the familiar cracked ceiling of his room in the orphanage, he felt his heart sink. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand to his head. When his fingertips briefly brushed against his bald head, he clenched the whole hand into a fist and brought it back down beside him.

_So it had been a dream after all._

Still, he felt stronger than he had in weeks, and if he closed his eyes, he could still taste the Talian pastry and hot chocolate that he’d had in the dream. The bone-deep weariness was still there of course, an ache that permeated the very molecules of him. But it wasn’t at the forefront right now. Right now he felt energized and well rested. And hungry.

He laughed to himself, the thin tendrils of hope warming his insides.

When Kai knocked at his door, Dag had a smile ready for him as the house parent let himself in to help Kai out of his sleep clothes.

“Hey buddy, you’re looking better!”

“Feeling better!” he replied, punctuating his point by standing up on his own and making a show of turning around in a circle. 

The smile on Kai’s face was as bright as the sun, and if Dag looked closely, he could’ve sworn he saw an errant tear or two trickling down his house parent’s face. Before he could get swept up in the emotion too, Dag schooled his expression into a more playful smirk.

“So what’s a poor, sickly orphan have to do to get some breakfast here?”

Kai didn’t hide his sniffle as he approached to give Dag a gentle squeeze on both shoulders. “Think you can finish your oatmeal this time?”

Dag scrunched his nose playfully. “I was thinking more along the lines of toast, with ham and cheese. Maybe some jam if the twins haven’t gobbled it all up, and some juice if we have it.

Kai beamed, “You got it buddy.”

Dag remembered a time when just the simple act of putting on clothes was already too painful for him, the brush of cloth against his skin felt like knives slicing him open. Now though, he barely even felt the pain. Once again he thought about the dream he had, unlike most dreams, he remembered every detail of this one clearly. 

He remembered Jenny making him change into her boy clothes, remembered walking around the beautiful city of Bellezza, and could recall with perfect clarity the Duchessa in all her splendor. In that dream he had his hair, was cancer free and strong. 

When Kai came back with his breakfast, Dag attacked his food with a gusto he hadn’t had in weeks. 

“Woah there,” Kai laughed, patting at his shoulder, “take it easy on the toast, wouldn’t want you to choke and die.”

Dag took a big swallow and managed a sheepish grin, “Sorry, I just feel like I haven’t eaten in forever.”

“I’m really glad you’re feeling better, buddy. Have you had the chance to draw on your notebook yet?”

Dag grinned. His walls were covered in the different drawings he had made, mostly of landscapes of his favorite places that he used to go to, like the park where he used to hang out when he was feeling better, or the mountains that one time a sponsor had decided to take the kids in the orphanage on a trip to see the fjords. But now, he had one particular place in mind.

“Do we have any books on Venice?” Dag asked.

***

Alarik watched as Elsa paced the floor of his laboratory. He was wearing a scarf and gloves, though it was warm outside, the inside of the room was getting colder by the minute. He didn’t seem to find it unusual that snowfall was beginning to drift down from the ceiling of the room, or that the flurries of snow were following the duchessa. A thin film of ice surrounded the duchessa’s feet as she continued her pacing.

“I just don’t understand!” Elsa muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Nothing’s working!”

Alarik raised his hands calmly, and considered taking her own hands in his, in an attempt to reassure her. He thought better of it. “Why don’t we try the exercise again? The planted memories, if you will” Alarik said, getting his microscope and slides ready, as well as the small spoons he would be using to collect the samples.

Elsa took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and nodded. “Alright.”

Elsa’s brief losses of control usually happened when she was upset, or under high stress, so Alarik’s hypothesis was that her powers were somehow connected to her emotional state. “Let’s start with your regular snow. Try to clear your mind and relax,” he said.

“Easy for you to say,” Elsa mumbled, and Alarik grinned, although she wouldn’t see. She held out her hand and conjured up a small mound of snow on it.

Alarik spooned some of the snow, and placed the snow on one of the glass slides, examining it on the microscope. The snow was powdery and relatively even looking under the microscope, snow that she used to use to pack into snowballs, back when Anna and Neta used to beg for Elsa to conjure snow while they were living in the palazzo.

“Have you heard from Anna lately?” Alarik asked, hoping to get her mind off whatever was troubling her. The room’s temperature dropped drastically for a fraction of a second, ice climbing the walls. Alarik was tempted to go to Elsa, he could see that her hands, rolled into fists, were shaking. He wanted to take her hands into his, rub her knuckles with his fingers, like he remembered she used to like. He thought better of it.

“She’s…she’s fine.” Elsa whispered, thinking of the latest letter Anna had sent. 

“Elsa, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I-” Alarik’s voice drifted off as he caught sight of something at the one of the mirrors. He narrowed his eyes. A mirror trained at the Scuola Mandoliera showed a boy asleep, and in another moment, he was gone. Any other person would have attributed it to a trick of the light, but Alarik knew better. 

As much as it pained him to leave Elsa, he had to excuse himself. “Els–Duchessa, I’m sorry I’m afraid something has come up suddenly.” Taking his cloak with him, he moved in front of her to give a perfunctory bow before turning to leave.

“Oh, but we had just–”

That stopped him in his tracks. Alarik turned around and waited for her to finish her statement. If she asked him, he would stay with her all night.

Instead she sighed and hunched in on herself, turning away as raising her hand as if to wave him away. Just as a Duchessa would do to any one of her Senators or staff. “Nevermind. It can wait. You have my leave.”

Alarik nodded and bowed again, taking his coat with him as he left his laboratory through the main exit.

Neither of them noticed the ice on the walls begin to melt as Elsa watched him leave.

***

Dag couldn’t remember the last time he had a good day, or at least, a day when he had enough energy to leave his bed. 

After breakfast, Kai had helped him amble slowly downstairs so that he could sit in the sun at the orphanage’s lawn. For the first time, he could laugh and talk with his other friends before they were ushered into the orphanage bus and taken to school.

Before it got too hot, he was wheeled back inside and spent the rest of the day pouring over the encyclopedias and guidebooks about Venice that Kai had dug up for him.

“What’s the interest anyway?” The house parent asked, peering over his shoulder while Dag studiously copied an image of the Palazzo Ducal and the Bridge of Sighs from the encyclopedia, also trying to piece together details from his dream that he could recall. 

Dag shrugged in reply. “I thought it might be a nice place to visit someday.”

He missed the brief look of sadness that flashed across Kai’s face. Instead, he felt the older man gave him a comforting pat on the head before leaving him to his books and sketches. 

Later that evening, once again back in his room and belly full with that night’s dinner of meatballs, potatoes, and stewed cabbage, Dag flicked through the history book that Kai had marked for him. Carefully reading sections that mentioned Italy, particularly Venice. 

Based on a particular chapter that covered the rise and fall of the Holy Roman Empire, he was already pretty sure that Bellezza–that is–the Venice in his dreams was set some time during the fifteenth or sixteenth century. 

Chancing another glance at his marbled notebook, Dag set aside his encyclopedias and history books and flipped through the sketches he made that day. While most of them were copied straight from the photos of palaces and renaissance fashion that he found in the history books, others were straight from his memory.

Even now he could recall every detail of the Bellezza in his dreams. He turned to the page where he sketched out the street lined with food vendors and taverns. If he focused, he could still recall the specific aroma of herb roasted meat and pasta sauce he had smelled from the nearby taverns.

On a different page still, he had copied an image of a bustling Venice street, one that he was sure looked familiar during his walk with Jenny, even though he’d never seen that photo until that morning. 

There were other images that he couldn’t find in the books, like the unique crest with the ram that he found on the Duchessa’s carriage and on the shields of the palace guards. The inside of the mandolier quarters, sketched entirely from the view where he was sure his own bed was located. 

On one corner he even had a quick doodle of the custard filled pastry he and Jenny had enjoyed together, suddenly wishing, more than anything, that he could taste it again. He wondered if he could describe it well enough for Kai to have the orphanage cook recreate it for him.

Leaning back against his pillow, he flipped to an unfinished sketch he had been working on after dinner, it was the beginning of the mandolier’s dock. He had the rough lines of the dock and the edge of the pier done, with a few squiggles to mark where he would place the water. If the lineart for this one turned out well, Dag was even considering asking Kai to unearth some paints for him so he could do it in full color. 

When his eyes started feeling heavy, he closed the notebook but kept it resting on his chest, balancing both hands over it. As he drifted off, he thought about the sketches inside, hoping that he’d get to see them again someday.


	9. Chapter 8

When Dag woke up, it was to the feeling of warm sunlight on his skin, the cool breeze blowing in from an open window. He stretched, but instead of the familiar feeling of his aching bones creaking, it was simply of the creaking of an unfamiliar wooden bed. He turned to his side, and was met with a pair of bright green eyes staring at him.

“Ah, excellent, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up!” said the man by his bed.

Dag blinked once. Twice. Three times. Before he screeched, “WHO ARE YOU???”

The man put his hands up, as if in surrender. “Sorry, sorry!” he said in an urgent whisper. “But you must come with me. Quick, put on your shoes, and hurry!” He led Dag out by the elbow towards the courtyard, and down to the landing stage of the Scuola, where a mandola was waiting for him. He escorted Dag inside, before carefully setting off towards who knows where.

From the mandolier quarters, Dag followed the man outside and through a street that led them even closer to the Palazzo, but instead of turning toward the large gates that lead to the palace, Dag was led to an adjacent building nearer the water

“Where are we going?” Dag asked, unsure if he was being kidnapped or not. In any other circumstance, Dag would have assumed he was being kidnapped, but the man was being far too gentle with him, that he wasn’t sure.

“We’re going to my laboratory,” the man replied, turning around and giving him a quick grin. The man certainly didn’t look like any scientist that Dag had ever met, mostly because of the way he was dressed. He was also tall and lanky, with a full head of unruly auburn curls. When he had turned around to grin at Dag, Dag felt oddly reassured by the strange man.

When the mandola docked, it was in a private, pier, away from the rest of the canal's busy comings and goings. From the pier, Dag followed the strange man through a short alleyway that led to what must have been the laboratory.

Inside, he was greeted with the sight of tables covered in books and scrolls. Lining the walls were shelves with more books and large jars containing various powders and crystals. Other shelves housed bottles in all shapes and sizes, some of them containing liquids Dag couldn’t possibly recognize or name. Further in, still, was a cluster of mirrors and knobs that caught Dag’s eye since several of them weren’t actually reflecting parts of the lab, but other places entirely, almost like windows. Then, at the very back, Dag spotted what looked like the outline of a door, made to look as if it were part of the wall.

“It’s not much,” the man said, giving an almost embarrassed smile, “but it’s home!”

Tentatively, Dag reached up again to run his fingers through a full head of hair. Looking down, he could see that he was still wearing the same clothes Jenny had given him from the previous day–night? Was this a dream he was having again? A strange continuation from the one he’d had the night before? There were suddenly multiple questions flooding his mind, instead he settled for–

“What’s happening to me?” Dag asked.

The man in front of him smiled. Pulling up two stools from underneath a work table, he beckoned Dag to sit on one of them before taking a seat himself. “The answer to that is precisely why I brought you here,” the man said. “I also figured that, since you’re an outsider, you’ll be needing someone to really help you understand how to navigate Bellezza.”

Dag swallowed. The way the other man was talking hinted at something that seemed much more life-changing than a recurring dream. He recalled when Jenny had pinched his arm in front of the bakery, how she had easily come to the solution that, if he felt pain, he couldn’t have been dreaming.

“But first,” the man said, extending a hand in Dag’s direction, “I believe proper introductions are needed. My name is Alarik,” he said, giving him another grin. “And you are…?”

“…Dag?” Dag said tentatively. He didn’t know why, but he found it easy to trust this strange man, with his kind eyes and ready smile. Aside from the eccentric vibe he gave off, he seemed otherwise harmless.

Alarik smiled wider and took his hand, in both of his, shaking it warmly. “It is very good to meet you Dag. Now let me ask you, haven’t you wondered how and why you got here in the first place?”

“I’m not quite sure how I got here. It feels like I’m dreaming,” Dag replied, “but I’m starting to think that might not be the case anymore.”

Alarik’s smile turned a bit more somber. “You’re quite right there. You see, you’re like me Dag. We are stravaganti.”

“Stravaganti?” The foreign word rolled strangely in his mouth as he tried to voice out the syllables the same way Alarik did.

“Yes! A stravaganti is one who travels between worlds through the process of stravagation.”

“Wait, what?” Dag leaned back in surprise, trying to absorb the information before him. “So–So you’re telling me I’m in a different world? Dimension?”

“In a manner,” Without ado, Alarik stood up from his stool and began a few things from the different shelves strewn about the lab. “Tell me, Dag. Where are you from?”

“Norway.”

“And what year is it in Norvegia?”

“2020.”

“Fascinating!” Alarik returned to the stool, carrying two fist-sized crystal balls and a few rods. His eyes sparkled at the information, “On this very day, in Talia, it is the year of our Goddess 1539. You see you’ve not only traveled to a different world, you’ve also traveled to a different time, so to speak. Perhaps this will better illustrate how it works.”

At that Alarik set-up two rods, a few inches away from each other so that they were standing perfectly straight. Then he balanced the two crystal balls atop, one a pale and clear blue, the other, the barest hint of lilac. Then, without stands or platforms whatsoever, Alarik removed his hands from the rods and Dag stared in fascination as both rods and both crystal balls stood perfectly balanced without any aid.

“Now,” Alarik began, pointing to both crystal balls. “Picture these two crystals as our two different worlds, yours and mine. There was a time when we moved at the same pace and shared a similar time period.” As if to accentuate his point, both crystal balls began to spin at a similar pace, in a similar direction.

“Some time in the fifteenth century of your world, the first ever stravaganti began experimenting how to travel between worlds. When his experiments proved successful, his jump between worlds caused your world to move ahead in time much faster than mine.”

At that, the light blue orb began spinning faster, while the lilac orb rotated at the same, slow pace.

“Which explains the time disparity. Since then, other stravaganti have been working to protect the bridge between our worlds while also studying the time difference it has caused. Our hope is that we might someday reverse the effect so that my world can catch up to your own.”

Dag let the information sink in, watching both orbs spin continuously. “So, what you’re saying is, this–I mean, your world, you’re stuck in the sixteenth century?”

Alarik laughed, “Well, not really. In this world, time feels and moves as it would anywhere else; neither slow nor fast. What I simply meant was that the goal of myself and my colleagues is to restore the time balance that the initial jump created.”

At that, Alarik placed a single finger atop the madly spinning blue orb until it gradually slowed to the same pace as the lilac one.

Dag nodded before voicing his next concern. “Okay but how does that explain how I got here?”

“Ah of course,” Alarik laughed, stopping both orbs from spinning and placing them to one side before. “You came here with something didn’t you? Something from your world?”

Dag was about to shake his head before a familiar weight in his trouser’ pocket caught his attention. Before Alarik had dragged him out of the mandolier quarters he had placed it back there. In the here and now, he pulled it out and held it out in front of him.

Alarik nodded. “That is your talisman, an item from this world that I placed in yours during one of my own stravagation experiments. Every stravaganti has one, it is what allows us to travel between worlds. Many stravaganti from my world do this in the hopes of encouraging more individuals from your world to travel here so that we might better understand the differences and learn from them.”

Dag turned over the notebook in his hands, when he opened it, he could still see the sketches he did during the day in it’s pages. “It only works when I’m asleep doesn’t it?”

“Sleep is a part of it, yes.” Alarik reached over to give Dag an encouraging pat on the shoulder, “When you fall asleep with your talisman your consciousness is what makes the journey here to Bellezza. Your real body is quite safe in your world still, and when you fall asleep here, your consciousness will travel back to your body in Norvegia entirely.”

Dag ran a hand through his hair, feeling at the curls. He had other questions but he settled for one that had been consuming him since his first stravagation. “In my–I mean. Back in my world, I’m very sick, I guess you could say I’m dying.” At the last word he feels his throat catch, and he tries to stem the wave of emotion threatening to pull him under.

In front of him, Alarik’s expression turned somber, his eyes growing sad.

“I guess what I’m asking is,” Dag continued, “Am I sick in this world too?”

Alarik’s expression turned kind, placing both hands on his shoulders. “I’m very sorry to hear this. I do not know the extent of your sickness back in your world, however, I’m glad I can offer you some comfort when I tell you that I don’t believe your illness followed you here.”

Dag looked at him with wide eyes, hope making his chest feel lighter than it had in months.

“As I’ve mentioned,” Alarik continued, “it is only your consciousness that makes the journey to Talia. Your body and all its illnesses are back in your original world. Here your physical form is as healthy as your spirit is strong.”

Dag nodded. Some part of him had hoped that, perhaps, by stravagating to Talia, he was cured of his cancer. Even though that wasn’t necessarily the case, he was glad that at least, whenever he would come here, it was to a healthy body.

“Now,” Alarik said, standing up from his stool. “As a stravaganti myself, I believe it is my duty to take you under my wing and teach you all about our order and how we stravaganti work to protect the bridge between worlds. Starting today, Dag, you are now my apprentice, and I your Maestro.”

It was a lot to take in, Dag tried to wrap his mind around all of it, making sense of what he’d just learned along with the questions he still had. Instead he felt a part of himself yearn at the prospect of what lay before him. An adventure he wouldn’t have otherwise had, back in his old world. Before he could talk himself out of it, Dag nodded and accepted.

The rest of the day was spent helping Alarik around his lab, handing him various instruments and vials as he was likewise taught their names and what they did. While they worked, Alarik explained more about the differences between their worlds.

“I believe in your world, Talia has a counterpart.” Alarik had explained sometime later that afternoon. “Just as your Norvegia is called Scandinava in this world.”

Dag nodded, looking up from the notebook he’d been instructed to take notes on. “In my world, our version of Talia is called Italy, and Bellezza is called Venice.”

Alarik nodded, making a note of it in his own ledgers. “Fascinating.” He mumbled to himself.

Later still, when the work was slowing down, Dag remembered something else. “When I first stravaganted here, I was selected by the Duchessa to be a mandolier.”

At the mention of the Duchessa, Alarik’s smile faded somewhat. He nodded once before beckoning Dag to follow him. “Yes, well, I’m sure we can handle that right now. Come with me.”

Alarik walked over to a candle holder mounted on the wall. It was shaped like a snow goose in flight, made of silver so pale it was almost white. The brightness of the goose’s tail shone even in the darkness of the laboratory. Alarik pulled on the candle holder, and the door beside it swung back. He hurried Dag inside through the passage, and closed the door on its hinge behind them. “Mind how you go, we’re going to see the Duchessa.”

“The Duchessa?” Dag whispered, as they made their way through the passage, lit only by a torch that Alarik had grabbed before they went inside. “Why?”

Alarik remained uncharacteristically silent. Before Dag knew it, they had reached what seemed to be a dead end of the tunnel. Alarik shone the torch at it, and Dag saw that it was a door. It seemed to have not been used in a while, Dag could see some cobwebs dangling from the corners. He shuddered at the sight.

Alarik tried pushing the door, to no avail. “Give me a hand please, Dag,” he said, and he and Dag pushed the door, which creaked on its hinges, and it swung open.

Dag blinked his eyes, willing himself to get used to the opulence of the room he suddenly found himself in.

Although it seemed like he was in a bedroom, the space he found himself in looked much bigger than any room he’d ever been in. Even bigger than the entire first floor of the orphanage. The walls looked like they were cut from pure white marble. The floors beneath his feet were plush and fully carpeted, and the entire ceiling had an intricately done painting that depicted a palace by a lagoon. Belatedly, Dag realized that it was a painting of Bellezza itself.

Along all the walls were ornate frames that housed large paintings and tapestries. One such painting, the one facing the bed, had an image of a regal looking couple holding two happy little girls between them. All of that, however, paled in comparison to the Duchessa herself, who was standing in the middle of the room staring at them.

“Alarik!” the Duchessa cried, when she saw him standing behind Dag. “What were you thinking, bringing him here! To my private apartments?”

“I can explain!” Alarik said, shining his torch near Dag. “Look at the boy’s shadow!”

Dag and the Duchessa both looked at the ground near where Dag stood. Only there was no shadow. It was a strange image to wrap his head around. Experimentally, Dag tried lifting his arm and waving at the floor, expecting to see his shadow appear any minute, only it wasn’t there. He opened his mouth to ask but then he remembered Alarik’s explanation from earlier.

His real body was in Norway. Which meant the body he had here in Bellezza wasn’t real. No real body, no shadow. The thought didn’t startle him so much now that he understood the concept of it.

The Duchessa gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Remarkable…” she said, circling Dag, looking at the floor near him. “So is he…?”

“Yes,” Alarik replied, handing the torch over to Dag before stepping before him to face the Duchessa. “One of my experiments finally paid off and he was able to stravagate here from the other world.”

The Duchessa looked from Dag to Alarik before nodding slowly. If her calm expression was anything to go by, Dag could only presume she already knew all about stravaganti.

“He will need to be trained,” Alarik said.

“I believe so, yes,” The Duchessa replied, looking Dag up and down. “I will arrange for you to be transferred from the Scuola Mandoliera, to Alarik’s residence near his laboratory.”

Alarik nodded, then looked out the window. “The sun is going to be setting soon, your Grace,” he said. “I must get him back to his world before his absence is noticed.”

“Very well,” The Duchessa said, and as Alarik and Dag turned to go, Elsa added, “And Alarik?”

Alarik turned around, “yes?”

Dag could have sworn he could see the barest hint of a smile on her face.

“Maybe knock, next time?” she said.

When they returned to Alarik’s lab, his Maestro lead him upstairs and to one of the rooms there. “During your apprenticeship you can have this room. My own apartments are in the Palazzo although I do keep a room here as well, but for the time being suffice it to say that you will be keeping to these quarters more than I will.”

Dag nodded, making his way to the bed and pulling out the marbled notebook from his trousers. “So if I sleep holding this tonight, I’ll wake up back in my body in Norway?”

Alarik nodded as well, leaning against the doorframe. “As you sleep, try to think of your home in Norway. It will help you stravagate better.”

As he sat on the bed, he was once again struck with the thought that he was about to embark on something new and exciting. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Alarik smiled at him. “I’m sure you will.”


	10. Chapter 9

Jenny was _furious_. All of the months it took planning, wasted, and for what? To see her one shot taken away by some strange boy! He was probably laughing at her right now as he prepared for his training at the Scuola. Soon he would be making his fortune sculling tourists across the Great Canal, and she would be back to her boring life at home in the islands.

Deep down though, Jenny knew it wasn’t his fault. He seemed to be so genuinely out of place in Bellezza, with his strange clothes and even stranger tales, that there was no way he was willing to risk certain death if he knew about outsiders in the city on the Forbidden Day.

Still, the memory of him getting personally selected by the Duchessa herself stung, and Jenny spent most of the rest of the day wandering random side streets to try and get her mind off the disappointment. In truth, although becoming a mandolier was her main goal, it also was the perfect set-up for her other plans. Plans that involved the letter that was carefully stowed away in her bag.

Jenny wondered how she would go about those plans now that her main reason for staying in Bellezza was abruptly taken away. She was loathe to admit that she was confident enough to not have planned for this outcome. She broke out of her musings, deciding she better sit down and plan a new strategy. Taking a quick look about, she realized she was near Bellezza’s main port, the salty smell of sea water mixed with the gentle lapping of water against the docks only further reminded her of the future that was now lost to her.

Suddenly, a familiar voice screamed “JENNY!” and ran towards her, engulfing her in a giant hug. It barely took a moment for her fight or flight response to abate before she realized who it was. 

“Hi Zia Anna!” Jenny managed to choke out, as her zia’s hug was practically strangling her.

Zia Anna suddenly let go of her. “Don’t Hi Zia Anna me!” she said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. “Where have you BEEN? We’ve been worried SICK! Poor Neta’s been inconsolable ever since she came back without you!”

“Where is Neta, anyway?” asked Jenny. She had hoped that Neta didn’t get into much trouble because of her. Jenny had figured, if her plans had worked, once she had become a mandolier and earned her fortune, she would have bought her cousin a nice present to apologize for disappearing on her like that. In hindsight, she figured that no present would have been worth the trouble and worry she put her cousin and zio and zia through.

“Neta’s back in Burlesca,” Zia Anna said. “Where we’re going straight away, so that your cousin knows you’re alright, she’s been absolutely beside herself!”

“And so have we,” came a gruff voice from their left. When Jenny turned around, she smiled to see her Zio Kristoff by his boat. “Hey, Jenny,” he said.

“What were you thinking?” her zia scolded as two pairs of strong arms hurriedly ushered her towards the family boat, “staying in Bellezza on the Forbidden Day! You know what could have happened!”

Although she knew she was at fault, Jenny couldn’t help the pout that was forming on her lips, “Well what about you and Zio Kristoff? How did you get here on the Forbidden Day?”

Jenny didn’t miss the uneasy look that the couple shared before Anna turned another warning glare in her direction. “Don’t try to turn this around young lady. You’re lucky we got here when we did and found you before anyone else realized you weren’t Bellezza born.”

With that, the rest of the trip was made in silence, with her Zio’s steady rowing bringing them closer to Burlesca and farther from the place where all her dreams and plans were set. 

Each of the smaller islands that made up the rest of Bellezza’s territory specialized in a unique craft that the city state could export to other parts of Talia. Where Jenny lived, Torrone housed the oldest museum in Bellezza, where the history of their city state was preserved. Merlino was famous for its daggers, created from the washed up bones of the rare Merlino fish and the island also had some of Bellezza’s greatest glass blowers that could create intricate creatures and jewelries from finely spun and molded glass, and the island. Each dagger was more durable than steel and valued at a great price across the country. Finally, there was Burlesca, where Neta lived, and where the finest lacemakers and weavers in the city state could be found. 

The small island was composed of pure white stone houses that dotted along the shore and further inland. Almost every house had a large loom outside where the lacemakers would spend days on end, weaving intricate patterns that were sold for a fortune all over Talia. 

Even before they reached the island’s main dock, Jenny could already see her cousin’s figure waiting for them. Once their boat had made it to Burlesca, she wasn’t quite sure if Neta’s expression was supposed to be furious with Jenny, or delighted to see her, or both.

Once she alighted from the boat, she turned to face Neta with a sheepish grin. The older girl had her arms crossed over her chest and her cheeks were tinged pink as she turned the full force of her glare on Jenny.

“So,” Jenny began, “about ditching you last night…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Neta had gripped her in a bone crushing hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Jenny heaved a sigh of relief before returning the embrace. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

After a few more moments with Neta in Burlesca, Jenny and her zio and zia made their way back home, to Torrone. Already the other islanders were starting to gather at the dock to welcome her. Since the majority of the city state’s population was in the mainland, the three islands were usually populated with older folks and artisans looking for a quieter life. 

Before her zia and zio moved to Torrone from somewhere else, there had been no children on the three islands in decades, and when they arrived, Neta was already a young girl. 

Jenny was the first infant on the three isles. The story was one everyone in Torrone knew, how she came to them by boat with nothing but a bag full of blankets and a letter addressed to her zia. Luckily, the village was a close-knit one, and Jenny was raised under many roofs. The whole village coming together for her upbringing.

When she saw how relieved and worried everyone had been, Jenny felt the uneasy grip of guilt deep in her stomach. It took many hours of getting passed around and hugged by people and neighbors she’d known all her life, some of them scolding her as her zia did, others crying tears of joy as they invited her for dinner at their house. When she was finally free of the attention, she sank into her small bed in her Zia’s house and fell into a dreamless sleep.

“We’ve finally decided on your punishment,” Zia Anna had finally said at breakfast the next day.

“Is it gutting and cleaning the fish?” Jenny asked, half-heartedly picking at the toast and roasted herb cheese on her plate. In truth, gutting fish for the rest of her life wasn’t the worst punishment she could think of, her Zia could always send her to the old museum in Torrone to help the curator. That would be a dreaded punishment too.

“Nope!” Zia Anna replied. “For the summer, you’re going to be living with your Zia Beata!”

Jenny blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline that never came. Her Zia Beata was a kindly, if eccentric woman, that lived a solitary life in Bellezza. “I don’t–how exactly is that punishment?”

At that, Zia Anna gave her a kind smile and reached out to take her hand. “Look, Jenny, I know why you did what you did. This doesn’t mean I’m happy about it but, I understand what it feels like to want answers, especially about your family. Believe me, I do.”

Not for the first time, Jenny caught a distant flash of sadness in her Zia’s eyes, one that was present throughout most of her childhood. She wondered what caused it. She wondered if it had something to do with the letter that was still in her bag.

She wondered if she would finally get those answers.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have the answers you’re looking for,” Zia Anna said, as if reading her mind, “However, I believe every girl has a say in how her life should be lived, and after yesterday and the other night, you’ve made it quite clear how you want to live yours. I’d be a very bad zia indeed if I didn’t at least try to support you.”

Jenny tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to stream down her eyes. She could barely believe what she was hearing.

“B-but.” her voice was thick at the effort of holding back a sob, “I–Non-Bellezzans aren’t allowed on the mainland for a whole year.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Her Zia had a determined glint in her eyes and a smirk curling up the corners of her mouth, “I’ve got it all planned out. Today you will pack your bags and head over to the mainland with your Zio during his transport schedule. When you get there, you’ll go by the name of Jenny Gasparini, Beata’s Bellezza-born niece, finally home from her cross-country travels.”

Jenny let her zia’s words sink in. “Will that work? Does Zia Beata really have a niece by that name?”

Her Zia Anna winked, “Well there is a niece, but she’s happily married to a silk merchant in Moresco. She’s been gone for so long that no one on the mainland really remembers her name anymore, so aside from the last name, you can still go by Jenny.”

“Won’t–Won’t they find out?”

At this, her Zia’s face turned serious, “I can’t guarantee you that they won’t, but I figured, a brave and street smart girl like you would think it was worth the risk. However, I’m not going to force this on you, Jenny. If you don’t want to do this we can call the whole thing off, but if you really want answers to the questions you seek, I’ve laid down the path, and all you have to do is take it.”

Later that afternoon, as she sat on the boat and waved farewell to the small group on Torrone’s dock who had come to see her off, Jenny couldn’t hold back a few errant tears that streamed down her cheek. Before she had gotten on the boat, Bulda and other islanders had each given her a warm hug and a sad farewell, some of them even giving her dresses made of the finest lace that they had created just for her. 

When her Zio’s boat finally docked at Bellezza’s main port, Jenny took a deep breath, trying to find her courage. That was when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see her Zio smiling down at her. “Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself, and make sure not to trust the wrong people. And you stay safe, deal?”

Jenny nodded, “Deal.”

***

Zia Beata’s house was like no house Jenny had ever seen. Even as she walked over there with her luggage in tow, she could pick it out without difficulty from among the other houses along the street. 

Firstly, the windows were all mismatched colored glass, reflecting red, blue, yellow, and green light across the cobblestones. The door and windows were also lined with glass chimes made of finely spun murano that tinkled with the slightest breeze. 

Inside was even more perplexing, the walls were one continuous fresco masterpiece that went on and on deeper into the house. It depicted the history of Bellezza from its first Duchessa all the way to the infamous assassination attempt that brought about the tradition of masks. On the ceiling, there was a painting of the twin wolves, baying at the foot of the Goddess.

Hanging from the ceiling were more glass chimes and even crystals and sea glass, each refracting light and bouncing color all across the walls. Along the windows and shelves were jars and jars of multicolored pasta and various nuts and seeds. One window harbored a planter box where a number of herbs were growing happily. Somewhere, Jenny could smell the sweet aroma of limoncello, probably from the cupboards further below. 

Even the furniture was mismatched, large plush armchairs and small wooden stools were haphazardly arranged around the dining table and various carpets and silks were draped across the walls and on random bits of furniture without rhyme or reason.

It was all utter chaos, and Jenny loved every inch of it. And if Jenny thought the house was interesting, it was nothing compared to her Zia Beata.

Zia Beata was a petite woman, only a little bit taller than Jenny, with short blonde hair that she liked to keep under a hat. Today her hat was a deep violet, with peacock feathers at the trimmings. When she caught sight of Jenny, her hat nearly fell off her head in her haste to get to Jenny.

 _“Johanna Maria!”_ she cried out, kissing Jenny twice on the cheek.

“Ziaaaaaa… you know I hate being called that!” Jenny groaned, scrunching her nose. As she bore the continued onslaught of her zia’s affections. 

“Ah, but you know I do it just to see you wrinkle that cute little nose of yours!” her Zia replied, ruffling Jenny’s curls fondly. “Now, you must be tired from your trip. Who’s ready for some sweets before dinner?” she asked, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Jenny grinned, “I’d like that.”

***

The next day, Jenny was up with the sunrise, as she was used to doing on the island. She left a note for her Zia and went out for a walk, bringing her satchel from Neta with her.

Zia Beata had told her the previous night that she had already mentioned to her neighbors that her well-traveled niece was finally coming home after many years. “Just in case someone stops you in the street and asks,” Zia Beata said with a knowing grin, “No one really remembers what Santina looks like, she was such a shy, private little thing after all. Just be careful who you talk to whenever you’re outside.”

Thankfully, it was too early for anyone to be out and about in the streets anyway. Jenny could use the time to think and plan her next move.

***

The next time Dag woke up in Bellezza, he was no longer in the mandolier quarters, but in a bed right by Alarik’s laboratory. He looked around the mess of the lab in search of Alarik, when he saw a piece of paper by the wooden desk. When Dag got a closer look, he saw that it was a note, folded in half, with “Dag” written in untidy scrawl.  
 _  
Dag,_

_I had to leave for an urgent meeting with the Ducal Senate. Should you wake before I return, please feel free to use the silver I left for you to buy yourself some breakfast. Your traveling is likely to take up a lot of your energy._

_-Alarik_

__

Dag pocketed the silver coins that were beside the letter, and stepped out of the lab, into the bright Talian sunshine.

Alarik was right, it seemed that Dag was a bit more tired after several attempts of stravagating, but unlike the tiredness that came with his cancer back in his world, this kind of tired thankfully came with an appetite. Dag felt his stomach rumble, and went in search of breakfast.

His thoughts drifted back to the pastry he had on his very first day in Bellezza, he wondered if he could try and relocate that same baker from smell alone. 

All around him, the city was beginning to wake up, windows were opening and neighbors were calling out to one another in bright voices. Already, he could see a few mandoliers rowing past the canals and toward the main port where their cargo was probably awaiting them. 

He was wondering exactly how to distinguish whether a place was serving food, or just happened to be cooking deliciously smelling food when a familiar flash of red hair caught his eye. He had to turn into a different street entirely to prove his guess but by the time he reached the end, Dag was already completely sure.

“Jenny!”

It didn’t escape his notice how the older girl’s eyes went wild before she turned to meet his gaze with a sharp whip of her head. As he approached, he also noticed the deep frown that was starting to settle on her lips. 

“What are you doing here?” Jenny asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Don’t you have to be at the Scuola?” 

“Yeah, about that…” Dag briefly wondered if he should tell her all about the things he learned since they last saw each other. 

One of the things Alarik did tell him during their first meeting was that he shouldn’t go around telling everyone what he was. Still, a part of him already trusted Jenny and he figured after how things ended the last time they saw each other, he owed her this much. “come on,” Dag said, taking her wrist as more of their surroundings began to look familiar to him, “let me buy us breakfast, and I’ll tell you.” 

Together, they walked towards the same bakery where he had had the delicious custard tart the very first time he had arrived in the city.

He ordered one coffee and custard tart for himself, and one hot chocolate and some chocolate biscuits for Jenny, and made his way to the table, where Jenny was waiting for him, tapping her foot.

“So,” Jenny said, picking up a chocolate biscuit and chomping into it. “Shouldn’t you be learning how to be a mandolier?” she asked through a mouthful of chocolate. The bitter note in her tone didn’t escape his notice.

Dag considered his next words carefully, “Right. Uh, a lot’s changed since we last saw each other but before I get into that, I wanted to apologize about, y’know, what happened. I know what it must have looked like but I swear I didn’t mean to–”

Jenny put up a hand, “It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault and I understand that.”

Dag breathed a sigh of relief, not quite sure why he was so intent on making sure that she wasn’t mad with him but her confirmation was enough to ease his nerves. “Great so, about why I’m not at the Scuola, uh, I’m not sure how to put this delicately so here goes nothing.”

In the end, he told her everything, from waking up and meeting Alarik, to finding out he was a stravagant and what the stravaganti do, to even meeting the Duchessa in her own private quarters.

While he spoke, Jenny merely listened, nodding at some parts, eyes widening at the other. By the time he finished, Dag expected her to call him a liar and leave him right there. Instead, she placed her three fingers together and touched it once again to her forehead, lips, and chest.

“Dia,” She said instead, “It sounds almost impossible, but what else could explain your strange behavior and the clothes you were wearing when we first met? It must be true then, that you’re a traveler from a different world, come here to Talia while you dream.” 

Dag nodded glad that, at least, he had someone other than Alarik to confide to while in Bellezza. Someone closer to his own age. “So why are you still here? I would have thought that after the other day, you would have gone back to your island.”

He saw the way Jenny’s eyes darted quickly to check if they were within earshot. Blessedly, there weren’t much patrons at the bakery, and the kind woman who ran it was busy kneading dough inside to really hear them.

“I did go home for a bit, but my Zia understood that I needed to be here, so she helped me sneak back to the mainland under a false identity.

Dag felt his eyes widen, “So,” he said, “if you’re not going to try to become a mandolier, why else do you want to be in Bellezza so badly?”

Jenny clutched her satchel. “Since you were honest with me,” she said, taking the last of her biscuits and crushing it between nimble fingers, “I trust you enough to tell you a secret of my own.”

Dag leaned back against his chair to give her space, waiting patiently as she seemed to choose and mull her words around carefully.

“I’m…I’m trying to find my mother,” she said, finally. “Don’t get me wrong! I love my zio and zia, and they did a great job of taking care of me- but…I just…I need to know where I came from.”

Dag stopped eating for a moment. Unlike Jenny, he never had any real wish to find out where he came from. He had always thought forward, hoping that someday, some nice family would take a liking to him and adopt him. That had never happened, of course. And after the cancer diagnosis Dag felt certain that it never would.

“Your mother? As in your real mother? Is she somewhere here in Bellezza?” Dag finally asked.

Jenny opened her bag, pulling out a well worn piece of paper, one that must have been folded and unfolded many times. The paper looked to be more than a decade old, it certainly already had a yellow tinge to it. 

To Dag, it looked like it could have easily been mistaken for rubbish, but Jenny was holding it with such a reverence that made it seem like it was the most valuable item in the world to her. And it probably was.

“The letter doesn’t give me much to go by,” Jenny said, sounding frustrated. “She didn’t even sign her name, just her initials.”

“Do you think I could take a look?” Dag asked carefully.

Jenny paused for a moment. Then she decided that if he could trust her with his big secret about travelling between worlds, then she could trust him with something as simple as a letter. She handed it to him.  
 _  
Dear Anna,_

_Her name is Johanna Maria._

_Until I can get it under control, I am entrusting her to you. It’s not safe for her here in Bellezza. I swear to you, and to her, when it is safe, we will be together again. All of us._

_You are the only person in this world whom I would trust to take care of her._

_I know you will love her with all your heart. Your love could hold up the world. And she is my whole world._

_Love,_

_E.A._

__

Dag looked up to see that Jenny was watching him anxiously, with bated breath. He felt that he had just intruded on a private moment, so he chose his next words carefully.

“What does it mean by ‘until I can get it under control’?” he asked.

Jenny ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling my Zia does, and she won’t tell me,” she said. “Like I said, the letter doesn’t give me much to go by. Just her initials, and that she lives in Bellezza,”

“But if she’s from Bellezza, does that mean you are too?” Dag asked.

“Not necessarily,” Jenny replied, “For all I know, I could have been born somewhere else and then taken here after. I don’t know where I’m from, and even if I were from Bellezza, I have no proof of it. It’s as if…” she trailed off, “it’s as if I belong nowhere.”

“But you have your family in the islands…” Dag ventured.

Jenny nodded. “I do. And I love them.” Jenny thought of the sleepy island of Torrone, where she had no one her own age to spend time with. It was especially hard when Neta got married and moved to Burlesca. “But I’ve never felt like I belonged in Torrone, or even Burlesca, or even any of the other islands, for that matter. It’s like…something’s missing, you understand?”

Dag was about to respond, when he heard one of the only other familiar voices in the city calling his name. He turned around in his seat to see Alarik walking towards the bakery.

“I thought I’d find you here!” Alarik said, clapping his on the shoulder.

“How?” Dag asked.

“Finest coffee and custard tarts in Bellezza!” he replied, grinning. “Isn’t that right, Signorina…?”

Jenny shot a matching grin at him. “Jenny. And you must be Signor Alarik!” she said.

Alarik ran a hand through his hair, messing up his unruly curls even further. “Just Alarik is fine, I’m not at the Senate at the moment!” He extended his hand to Jenny, shaking it warmly. He then turned to Dag. “I’m afraid we will have to return to the laboratory soon, Dag” he said. “We have much to work on.”

Dag stood to leave. “See you soon?” Dag asked Jenny, who had discretely stuffed his unfinished custard tart into her mouth and grinned at him sheepishly.

“I look forward to it!” she replied through a mouthful of tart.

Dag and Alarik bid Jenny goodbye and left the bakery. Already, Dag could feel the eager anticipation from the previous day growing in his chest. This new second life was strange, but already he felt as if it completed him in a way that nothing did before.

Unbeknownst to him or Jenny, a cloaked figure who had been standing just in the shadow of the bakery, hidden from view since they had sat down also took his leave. He already heard everything he needed to hear.

*~*


	11. Chapter 10

In the shadows of the tavern sat a man with a cloak draped over his chair, a cloak of a dark green that matched his eyes, eyes that narrowed when he saw the aristocratic man who sat across him without any introduction.

“What news do you have, Enrico?” asked Hans. 

“Well, My Lord,” Enrico said, voice dripping saccharine, “were you in the city for this year’s Marriage to the Sea?”

“Naturally,” Hans huffed. It was the only time of year when non Bellezzans could be in the city, and if he was to convince the Duchessa to sign over the city to his family, the only way he was going to get anywhere with her was during the feast after the Marriage to the Sea. But no one, not even him, with all his years of trying, was getting anywhere with her.

“What if I told you that the Duchessa is not who you think she is?” Enrico said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“She uses a body double during The Marriage, My Lord,” Enrico whispered. “My own fiancee was the one who told me as such, she was the one who doubled for the Duchessa this year.”

Interesting, Hans thought. If the Duchessa used a body double during state events, then the real Duchessa would be somewhere else, less heavily guarded. He could use that information to his advantage. “What else do you know?” Hans asked.

“You are aware of Senator Alarik?” Enrico said.

“Yes…” Hans replied. Senator Alarik always kept an annoyingly close eye on the Duchessa, especially during the Feast after the Marriage to the Sea.

“Well,” Enrico began, “He has a new apprentice, a boy, not from here, and the boy has a companion, a young girl. Both non Bellezzans, here on the Forbidden Day!”

“What does that concern me, the rule breaking of some youths?” Hans asked, narrowing his eyes.

“The girl may not concern you,” Enrico said, “But the boy, he may not even be from this world at all.”

“A traveler between worlds?” Hans asked, but Enrico did not elaborate, merely shrugging in that blasé way of his. 

“Perhaps, but this poor spy may need something to motivate him to listen a little harder next time.” 

Hans gave him a pouch full of silver with a roll of his eyes. He meant to ask more, but he was late for his own participation in the Ducal Senate meeting. He thanked Enrico for his time, and took his leave.

“A traveler between worlds,” Enrico mused after Hans had left, twirling a piece of silver between his fingers… “much like my brother,” he said under his breath.

***

A week into her new life in Bellezza, Jenny was having breakfast in the garden with her Zia Beata when they heard a knock at the door. Zia Beata excused herself to answer it, when Jenny heard her shriek excitedly.

“BEOWULF!” Zia Beata cried out.

“Beowulf?” Jenny thought, as she made her way to the front door. At the door, she saw the familiar face of Signor Alarik, who was currently being hugged by her much smaller Zia. Behind them stood Dag, who waved when he caught sight of Jenny.

“What brings you here,Beowulf?” Zia Beata asked Alarik.

Alarik grinned at her. “Ah, first let me introduce my apprentice, Dag!” he said, gesturing towards Dag, who waved shyly.

“Well hello there, Dag!” Zia Beata cried, kissing him twice on both cheeks. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well,” Alarik said, “Dag mentioned that Jenny was staying with you for a while, and might like some company, is that correct?” Alarik held up a small basket of chocolate biscuits. “And we brought what seemed to be her favorite!”

“Hi Signor Alarik!” Jenny said, grinning. Dipping in half a curtsy before her eyes landed on Dag, she waved brightly, chuckling when Dag returned the gesture.

“We were just finishing up breakfast, if you two would like to join us!” Zia Beata said, about to usher them into the garden.

Alarik bowed deeply. “I’m afraid I have another meeting at the Ducal Senate today, Beata!” he said. At this, he clapped Dag’s shoulder a few time, “which was why I was hoping to leave my apprentice here for the day. We’ve been hard at work in my lab this past week so I figured he deserved some time with his friend.”

“Perhaps Dag would like to visit the islands today!” Zia Beata suggested.

“Yes!” Jenny cried out suddenly, drawing the attention of the other three. She tried to ignore the way Dag was hiding a laugh under the guise of a cough. She cleared her throat and ducked her head sheepishly. “I mean, er. It would be nice to tour Dag around the islands. I know he hasn’t seen them.”

“It’s settled then!” Alarik said. “Just be sure you’re finished before dark!” he told Dag, giving him a meaningful look. 

Dag nodded. Throughout their lessons, his Maestro had taught him a lot about stravagation already. How to preserve his energy during stravagations, how to focus his thoughts on his location before falling asleep to ease the passage between dimensions. Most important of all, Alarik had spent a great deal teaching Dag about the time disparity between their two worlds.

Time on his world moved just a bit faster than time on Belleza and Talia. Which meant that the eight or so hours he spent asleep back in Norway roughly translated to more or less twelve hours in Bellezza. Still, Alarik had taught him not to stay in Bellezza for the full twelve hours. With the time disparity still temperamental, there was no telling when the differences might shift. The last thing they needed was for Dag to still be in Talia while his body was meant to be awake in Norway.

He nodded, smiling up at Alarik. “I wont, promise.”

“Excellent!” Alarik said, with a smile. “Then I shall see you back at the lab later on Dag. Enjoy your tour!”

***

Jenny was practically vibrating with nervous energy as they made the boat ride to the lagoon. As much as she loved the beautiful city of Bellezza, she couldn’t wait to see her Zia and Zio and cousin again. 

She’d spent the past week in Bellezza truly familiarizing herself with the streets, getting to know all the ins and outs and where to find the best spiced wine and roasted meat and fresh bread. But also, she had been spending afternoons in the Hall of Records, just beside Bellezza’s grand cathedral. Pouring over population archives and censuses in an attempt to discover some clue to who her mother could have been.

In the here and now, she savored the feel of the warm breeze as it whipped against her hair. Zia Beata had generously offered to pay for the hired mandolier to take them to the different islands. Beside her, Jenny could see Dag reaching out toward the water, his fingertips barely grazing the lagoon’s surface. 

“First stop, Merlino!” Jenny said, rocking the boat in her excitement as she stood up to point the first island out to Dag.

Soon enough, they made it to Merlino’s small harbor, where Zia Beata spoke to the oarsman about their plans for the day. They left the mandolier resting by the harbor as the three of them made their way further inland.

“Merlino has the most artisans.” Jenny said, sidling up to Dag and linking their arms together. “Some of Talia’s most famous craftsmen live here.”

“What do they make?” Dag asked, looking around as they walked through more cobbled streets and rows and rows of houses and workshops, all side by side.

“Well, the island is named for one of it’s most chief exports. Merlino blades. They’re made from the bones of the Merlino fish that wash up on shore. No one has actually seen a live fish in centuries and it’s always a mystery when the bones wash up near the harbor.” Jenny’s eyes sparkled as she told the tale. “But once the bones reach Merlino, they’re hard and practically impossible to break. All they need is sharpening, some refinement and you have yourself a weapon for life.”

Dag considered her words as they walked around the different houses and workshops. Apart from the blades, the other most prominent thing he saw on Merlino were the glass figurines. Murano glass, Jenny called them. He stared in fascination at the intricate pieces on display in one glass window. From colorful glass pendants, to lifelike glass sculptures of dolphins, peacocks, and stallions. There were even glass masks on display, though Jenny regarded them with a reverence that made him curious.

“Don’t worry topolino,” she said, “I’ll save that one for last.”

Just before they left, Bellezza, Alarik had given him a few silver coins, pocket money he had said with a wink and an encouraging clap on his arm. As Dag looked around, he knew that whatever he bought in Bellezza, he couldn’t exactly bring back with him to Norway. Still, it felt like such a shame not to support the local artisans. Especially since everything looked like it deserved to be on display in a gallery.

Finally, he settled for a simple Merlino blade, with a black leather handle and simple etching on the blade. Jenny looked over approvingly, “It suits you,” she said as he carefully sheathed the blade and walked back to the boat with her. 

***

“Where are we going next?” Dag asked Jenny as they set off from the port.

“Burlesca!” Jenny replied excitedly. “You’re gonna get to meet my cousin Neta!”

Zia Beata shot them an indulgent smile. “Does your cousin know we’re coming?” she asked Jenny.

Jenny grinned. “Not unless you wrote to her!” 

Dag tapped Jenny on the shoulder. “What’s Burlesca known for?”

“Lace!” Jenny said, thrusting the sleeve of her dress in front of Dag’s face. He gently traced a finger along the fine detailing that hemmed the sleeve. “My cousin trimmed this one herself.” Jenny said proudly. 

The boat neared the island, and Dag could see that every house on the island was painted a different color. Under the blue skies of the lagoon, the entire picture reminded Dag of candy shops, with all the riots of color. “Which one is Neta’s house?” Dag asked.

Jenny pointed to the one pure white house amidst all of the colored ones. As soon as the boat docked, she practically dragged Dag towards it, Zia Beata trailing casually behind them.

It seemed as if the front door of every house in the island had a weaving loom, there were women of various ages sitting outside and chatting as the weaved, many of them not even eyeing their hands as they worked. Outside the white house, sat a young woman. On her lap was a small cushion, which had a heap of snowy white lace on top of it. She was laughing at something another woman at a neighboring house had said.

“Neta!” Jenny cried, running over to the woman and practically tackling her in a hug.

“Jenny!” Neta cried, lifting her cousin up and twirling her around as if Jenny weighed almost nothing. “And Zia Beata, hello! And who might this be?” Neta asked, smiling at Dag.

“I’m Dag,” Dag began, extending his hand, and was surprised when Neta hugged him as well.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Dag!” she said, ushering Jenny and Beata inside. “Come in! Come in! Nikolai’s just arrived as well, we have a fresh catch of fish, if you’d like to join us for lunch!”

Dag trailed behind them, stopping to look at the lace that Neta had left on the cushion outside. It looked like a tablecloth, with a bird in flight at the center, and leaves and flowers surrounding the edging of the cloth. 

“Lace has a language of its own, you know,” Neta said from behind him. 

Before Dag could ask what she meant by that, Neta led him indoors, where he could smell the scent of freshly caught seafood being cooked. “Hope you like seafood stew!” she said, grabbing an apron draped on a nearby chair. “It should be just about finished! Jenny!” she called out, “Go wash your hands, Jenny! And tell Nikolai that lunch is nearly ready, he should be just about finished washing up!”

Jenny was soon back, with a tall, dark haired man behind her. Jenny chatted to him animatedly as she carried the bowls to the wooden dining table, him laughing as he carried a large pot of what smelled like the stew, bubbling with tomato sauce, peppers, shellfish, shrimp, and fish. The scent alone made Dag’s mouth water.

“Got quite the catch today, didn’t you, Nikolai dear?” Neta said to him fondly as she spooned large helpings of seafood stew into each of the bowls.

“Indeed! Quite lucky we have visitors today! Jenny told me that she brought a friend and Beata along as well!” Nikolai replied.

“Nikolai makes Merlino blades as well!” Jenny told Dag. “Don’t you, Nikolai?”

Nikolai smiled, proudly brandishing a blade that was strapped to his hip. Unlike his own dagger, Nikolai’s was larger and far more intricately carved. The blade looked like sharpened moonlight and the handle made with pure white petrified wood that was carved in such an intricate manner it almost looked like–

“Inspired by my dear wife’s creations of course,” Nikolai said with a wink, offering the blade to Dag. He admired the craftsmanship, and the fact that the handle really did look like finely spun lace.

“That’s quite enough,” Neta said. “And Nikolai, you know I don’t like those at the table,” she said, shuddering slightly.

Dag returned the blade carefully, noting how Nikolai’s deft fingers twirled the dagger smoothly before sheathing it again. He felt his own fingers twitch in response, trying to mirror the movement. 

“So, what’s for dessert?” Jenny asked brightly when they finished the stew.

“Well,” Neta said, “My mama should be finishing up a batch of cakes for the lunchtime rush right now! Why don’t you make the trip to Torrone?”

***

The moment they docked on Torrone, Dag could barely keep up with Jenny, who had leapt off the boat and took off in the direction of one stone house in particular. By the time he caught up with her, she was already sandwiched between a couple.

“Dag!” Jenny cried, waving him over, “This is my Zia Anna and my Zio Kristoff. They raised me!”

Dag smiled shyly, extending a hand, “It’s very good to meet you.”

“Oh look at him,” Anna cooed, walking over and engulfing him in a hug of her own. “Aren’t you the cutest thing? Just like–”

“A topolino,” Jenny finished, winking over at him before grabbing him by the wrist and leading him into the house. Behind them, Dag could already hear Anna and Kristoff greeting Beata.

“This is where I grew up!” Jenny twirled around the small kitchen as Dag took it all in. It was a simple home, but it looked comfortable and well lived in. The kitchen looked as if it had gone through a flurry of snow, but upon further inspection, Dag realized it was flour, speckled practically everywhere. “Zia Anna makes the best cakes,” Jenny exclaimed proudly, pulling a chair on the dining table and taking a seat.

It surely showed. The rest of the kitchen was covered in jars filled with sugar, eggs, more flour, and other dried herbs like lavender and rose petals. Probably for flavoring, he mused. Just past the kitchen was a modest sitting room where Dag spotted a painting of two women, dancing in a field, their faces obscured by the house’s supporting beam.

“Well, you guys arrived right on time,” Anna, Kristoff, and Beata were already piling into the house, sitting around the table as well. “I’ve just finished decorating my most recent masterpiece.” Anna gave Dag a little wink before walking over to a little alcove just past the kitchen where there was an open window with a cake sitting prettily on the window sill.

It was just a single-layered cake, golden all around and topped with glazed strawberries and a fine coating of frosted sugar on the top..

“Looks great dear,” Kristoff said, quickly swiping a strawberry from the top while his wife was setting the table. That earned him a sharp rap on the knuckles from Zia Beata.

“Come join us Dag,” Anna waved him over with a smile, “A little topolino like you should get the biggest slice.”

Anna sliced a particularly large piece for him, taking great care to pick the section with the biggest, juiciest strawberries.

Dag took one bite, and thought that it was even better than the custard tart at the bakery, the sweetness of the cake contrasting nicely with the slight tartness of the strawberries. He found himself digging in almost immediately. “This is delicious!” he said, “where did you learn how to make such cakes, Miss Anna?”

“Miss Anna?” Anna repeated, smiling. “Please, call me Zia, everyone here does!” And she handed him another large slice. “My own papa was the cakemaker before me, he taught me all his recipes!”

“But she always puts her own spin on them, don’t you Zia?” Jenny asked through a mouthful of cake.

“Well, I may sometimes put a bit more sugar on top than necessary!” Anna said, winking. “It’s just how my sister liked…” she trailed off, a faraway look in her face. Jenny too had suddenly gone quiet.

Dag cleared his throat. “I noticed there was a church nearby, it’s very lovely!” he said.

“Oh yes!” Anna said brightly, seemingly bouncing back. “Jenny, why don’t you take Dag to see the cathedral? The museum is right there as well!”

Torrone was an island much different from Burlesca and Merlino. For one thing, there wasn’t much people in it, certainly not the throngs of tourists Dag saw in the first two islands. Also, there didn’t seem to be any people their age on the entire island- the island was quiet and sleepy and full of middle aged to elderly people. Still, the few tourists that made the trip to the island seemed to be making their way towards a small church.

“Torrone doesn’t have much by way of trade,” Jenny said, looping her arm through his as they walked over. “But what we do have, some consider just as important.” She waved her hand toward the large church, “It is Santa Maria delle Grazie, St. Mary of the Thank-Yous, during the days of the plague, the whole of Talia suffered, some city states dwindling down to only hundreds. Here in Bellezza, we were fortunate to have only a third of the population succumb. This church was built in that honor, to thank the Goddess and the Mother for sparing our people.”

Dag’s fingers itched for his pencils and his notebook so that he could sketch the feat of architecture before him. That was, until his attention was drawn elsewhere.

“What’s that?” He pointed toward a similar structure just adjacent to the church, Jenny smiled and led him there.

“Another of Torrone’s treasures. We may not have artisans but our island carries the city state’s entire history.”

When they entered the building, it looked old and smelled slightly of dust and mildew, still, Dag marveled at the shelves of scrolls and various paintings that lined the walls. Right at the very center, underneath a glass dome, was an intricately done glass mask. Dag approached it curiously.

Beside him, Jenny hummed. “You recall the glass masks on display in Merlino?” Dag nodded, “Years and years before, a different Duchessa commissioned the finest mask made of glass from Merlino’s own Glass Master. She wore it during the ball held at the end of Carnivale in the Piazza Santa Maddalena.

“Sometime in the night, she found herself in the arms of Fernando Di Meridione. The Di Meridiones are Talia’s largest family, and they have members in seats of power in almost every city state. It is no secret that they’ve been eyeing to secure Bellezza as part of their rule.

“During the dance, Fernando kept spinning the Duchessa faster and faster until suddenly, she tripped, falling to the ground, her glass mask shattering into a million pieces and scarring her for life. Fernando claimed it was an accident, but people who were there swore that it was an attempt on her very life.

“To hide her scars, that Duchessa began wearing a mask everyday, and since she was a vain woman, she ordered that every woman unmarried over the age of sixteen must wear one also. And so it has been for decades, all the way to today.”

“So,” Dag said, mind still reeling at the gruesome story, “does that mean when you turn sixteen you’ll–”

“Wear a mask, yes.” Jenny said with a sigh. They were walking out of the museum now. “Until I marry at least, but I don’t foresee that happening any time soon either. Which is why I’m hoping our new Duchessa will change the law so I wont have to wear a mask.”

Dag turned around just before they exited, seeing the mask in all its glory. “But, if the mask shattered, what’s that on display?”

Jenny’s smile turned dark, feral almost. “After the tragedy, that Duchessa ordered the Glass Master to make an exact duplicate of her mask to place on display, so that no one would forget the crime done against Bellezza. The day the mask was placed in this museum, the Glass Master suddenly died in his home, a few days later, Fernando Di Meridione died mysteriously as well, some people claim they were poisoned, but no one could truly prove it.”

She smirked and Dag felt his insides turn cold. 

“Are all your rulers so,” he struggled for the right word, “–bloodthirsty?”

Jenny laughed, “I suppose one has to be. I imagine it is quite hard to take a seat of power with enemies plotting your demise at every turn.”

They were out of the museum now, strolling back toward Zia Anna and Zio Kristoff’s home. It took Dag a few minutes to realize that the sun had already set, and that all around him, Torrone had grown dark.

He felt his heart plummet to his stomach. Reaching out for Jenny’s hand, he stared at her, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“It’s nightfall, I should have been in Bellezza by now!” Dag felt the panic rise in his chest, “Signor Alarik–Norway!”

Jenny’s grip on his arm tightened. She looked around for a moment before pulling him into a run toward the house. Opening a back door, she gripped his shoulders and stared him straight in the eye. “Go up the stairs and enter the door at the end of the hall, that is my old room. Do what you must, I will distract them here, but you have to be back before Zia Beata insists we go home.”

Dag nodded, making a mad dash for the stairs and creeping quietly into Jenny’s old room. He lay quickly on the bed, reaching for the notebook in his pocket. He tried focusing on his room in the orphanage but his heart was hammering so loudly in his ribcage he could barely focus.

He took a few breaths to calm himself down. Below, he could hear Jenny motioning to something across the lagoon. As his heart slowed, he thought back to his room, focusing with all his might.

By the time the first firework had set the sky ablaze with color, he was already gone.

***

Dag woke up to a bright light being shone at his eyes. “Huh, what’s happening?” he asked, when the room went into focus, and he saw that he was in his room back in his own world. He saw Dr. Andersen putting his flashlight away, and Kai peering anxiously behind him.

“Oh, Dag, thank goodness!” Kai said, when Dag sat up. “You gave me such a scare back there!”

“What time is it?” Dag asked, rubbing a knuckle at his eyes.

“Almost noon.” Kai replied, looking at his wristwatch.

“Oh, I…must’ve overslept,” Dag said lamely. 

“Not so unusual for teenagers,” Dr. Andersen said, smiling at him. “Well, Dag seems perfectly fine, or as fine as he can be at this stage of the treatment. Do you feel groggy or heavy at all?” 

Dag sat up, stretching out the crick in his neck. “Uhm, not so much.” He looked to Kai then to Dr. Andersen, “I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

Dr. Andersen smiled, “Not at all, this is my job after all, when Kai called saying that you wouldn’t wake after he shook you several times–well, I’d say that’s rational cause for concern.”

Dag felt the guilt worm around his chest, this was what Alarik had warned him about. When he looked at Kai, he could still see the worry lining his house parent’s face. 

“To be on the safe side,” Dr. Andersen said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a stethoscope, “I’ll run a few basic diagnostic tests, if that’s alright with you Dag?”

He nodded, sitting up straighter. “Please, go ahead.”

The tests didn’t take more than a couple of hours, but Dag’s mind was back on Torrone. With every passing minute he worried about how Jenny was left distracting the others downstairs, hoping that he made it back just before she and Beata left the island. 

“Everything seems to be fine,” Dr. Andersen said, standing up and placing his instruments back in his bag. “Fatigue is normal in-between treatments so I wouldn’t put too much stock into this.”

As he made to leave, Kai escorted him to the door before returning to Dag’s bedside. “Are you sure you feel alright?”

Dag nodded, “I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Kai smiled, the motion of it not quite reaching his eyes. “I’ll head downstairs and fetch you some breakfast. Or, I guess it would be brunch. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”

The moment he closed the door, Dag slammed his eyes shut and gripped his notebook tight, thinking of Torrone.

***

When Dag appeared back on Torrone, it seemed as if no time at all had passed. Downstairs, everyone on the boat was looking out into the distance, the only one who seemed to have noticed his absence was Jenny.

“How long was I gone?” Dag whispered.

“Not long,” Jenny replied. “Everyone was busy looking at Signor Alarik’s fireworks, and by the time they were over, here you are.”

So it seemed as if only moments had passed in Talia, while nearly two whole hours passed while in his own world. Dag made a mental note to tell Alarik when they returned. 

As if on cue, Zia Beata began ushering him and Jenny back on to the boat, with cries that the mandolier might charge her extra if they stayed another moment longer. Dag watched as Jenny bid her Zia and Zio goodbye before they were off again, sailing calmly across the lagoon back to Bellezza.

Once they were near enough, they could see Alarik already waiting for them, his tall lanky frame and unruly hair made him easy enough to spot. By the time they docked, he was racing toward their boat.

“Dag! At last!” He reached out a hand and helped pull Dag up from the boat, “When the sun had set and you still weren’t back I had gotten worried!”

Dag ducked his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry, we lost track of time.”

“Oh don’t take it out on the boy, Beowulf!” Zia Beata was suddenly between him and his Maestro, arms encircling them in a warm hug. “He had a great time today, even came away with a very useful souvenir.”

Alarik’s smile was back, if a little subdued. “I’m glad to hear it, but next time, I hope my apprentice is a little more aware of his time commitments.” This last statement he made to Dag directly, giving him a pointed look.

Dag nodded. As he waved goodbye to Jenny and Zia Beata, he tried to remember everything that happened that day, including all the things he meant to tell Alarik. But first–

“Come,” Alarik’s voice turned friendly again, giving him a smile as he ushered him back toward the lab. “Let’s get you home, yes?”

***

“And that should just about do it, Your Grace!” said the seamstress, finishing up the last touches of alterations for the Duchessa’s latest gown. 

“Alright then, you may go, thank you,” Elsa said, as the seamstress curtseyed deeply and exited the room carrying armloads of silk and satin.

She walked over to the window, relishing the feeling of the cool night air on her skin. She leaned against the windowsill and looked out into the courtyard below. Elsa smiled when she spotted Alarik and his young apprentice, making their way towards the building near the Palazzo, which housed the laboratory that Elsa had commissioned especially for him, so many years ago. They seemed to have bonded rather quickly, they looked like they were laughing at a joke that Elsa couldn’t quite hear. Suddenly they turned around and waved to a woman some feet away— Beata, an old friend of Alarik’s- Elsa recognized her peacock feather hat anywhere, no one else was quite like Beata, and Elsa could spot her in a crowd easily enough. It was only when Elsa spotted the last member of their party that Elsa froze where she stood.

There, carrying a picnic basket, was a laughing girl with long auburn curls, waving to Alarik and his apprentice as well. She must’ve been under sixteen, as she had no mask on. Since the girl was without a mask, Elsa could clearly see the girl’s bright green eyes as she raced the others across the courtyard.

“Gerda?” she called out, and her trusted matron came into the room. “Do you see that young girl at the piazza? With the auburn hair?” At Gerda’s nod, Elsa continued, “Please see to it that she is followed. I want information on her.”

When Gerda left the room, Elsa turned from the window, sinking to the floor as the room turned colder by the minute, frost climbing the walls. 

*~*


	12. Chapter 11

Guido Parola couldn’t believe that he’d sunk so low.

After his older brother Luigi had squandered off the family fortune on wine and women, they had been left destitute. With his hopes of going to university in Padavia gone, Guido had no money to pay for his ailing father’s medical treatment. 

So when his old school friend Enrico introduced him to Enrico’s wealthy employer, who needed a…certain skill set, Guido had been unable to refuse. He was going to be paid handsomely, and he had to do whatever it would take to keep his father alive.

He sheathed his newly sharpened Merlino blade and tied it to his belt. His new employer had said that he would be needing it for his “assignment”. 

He shuddered at the thought, and hoped that the Goddess would forgive him for the treachery he was about to commit against his own city.

***

“Guess what we’re doing today?” Alarik asked, an almost manic gleam in his eye that reminded Dag very much of a mad scientist. In a way, his Maestro sort of was.

It had been a few days since his tour of the islands with Jenny, since then Kai had been keeping a much closer and careful watch on him back in the orphanage, checking in on him every few hours just to make sure he was okay. It had made him a lot more conscious of the time he’s been spending in Talia.

In the here and now, he followed Alarik to a row of shelves and began accepting the various scrolls and tools thrust upon his arms. “What, Maestro?”

“We’re going to be making fireworks!” Alarik announced, clapping Dag on the shoulder. “For the Feast of the Maddalena!”

“Who?”

“She’s the patroness of the lagoon,” Alarik said, already gathering jars and vials and other odds and ends. “It is an important, annual celebration here in Bellezza and so the fireworks must be very special!”

“Even more special than the fireworks during the Marriage to the Sea?” Dag asked, grinning. “Jenny mentioned how beautiful those fireworks were!”

“Well, I’d be hard pressed to top that display,” Alarik said, tapping the side of his nose, “But we’re going to have to try then, aren’t we?”

“Wish I could watch,” Dag said. He had heard from Jenny that the firework displays that Maestro Alarik made were always something special, something that she had looked forward to watching every year, ever since she was a child.

“I wish you could see it too,” Alarik said with a sad sort of smile, “but the firework displays can’t happen during the day while you’re here, I’m sorry.”

Dag shrugged. “So, how shall we start?”

Despite Dag knowing that he wouldn’t be able to watch the fireworks, he soon became absorbed in helping Alarik make them. His Maestro taught him how to carefully weigh and ration the different powders used for color, explosion, and even certain effects like sparkles, and longer light exposure.

Then each unique mixture was wrapped together, packaged and attached to a slim wooden rod that already contained a long fuse for lighting. As they worked, Alarik explained how the various ratio combinations of powders would affect the firework’s overall look and sound. 

It was during a lull in the process that Dag decided to ask, “Maestro, back when we first met, you mentioned being the one who left my talisman in Norway.”

Alarik smiled from where he was carefully mixing and grinding powders in a small cauldron. “Why yes, I did.”

“I was wondering,” Dag said as he began transferring the completed fireworks into the back of a medium-sized cart, “how that worked exactly?”

Alarik looked up from his work and offered his apprentice a knowing smile. “I suppose it’s one of those “easier said than done” endeavors.” His Maestro finished the last batch of powders he’d been mixing and poured them into the firework capsule. “The short of it is that you simply carry an item from your original world into the dimension you are stravagating into.”

Dag paused his work to look up at his Maestro, certain that there was more to it. 

“Of course,” Alarik said, “It really isn’t something for novice stravaganti such as yourself to attempt, in fact, when it was first attempted, it greatly drained the stravaganti who did so.”

Dag’s ears perked, “You mentioned him, the first stravaganti, who was he Maestro?”

At that, Alarik’s smile turned excited, his green eyes bright, “I hope to have you meet him soon enough, he lives nearby, in Montemurato, after all.”

He almost dropped the fireworks he’d been holding. “Wait, what? The very first stravaganti is still alive today?! Here?!” Dag exclaimed, “how is that even possible? That was centuries ago!”

Alarik laughed, “You forget my boy, Talia still exists within the sixteenth century! What was centuries for your world was only a decade or so here. I can assure you, he is very much alive and well.”

“I–I don’t know where to begin,” Dag said, “Will I really get to meet him? What’s his name? How did he come to stay here?”

“One at a time Dag,” Alarik said, ruffling his hair, “I shall take you to him soon enough. Though I will tell you, that he was originally from your very own Norvegia.”

“Really?” Dag felt his eyes widen.

“Truly,” Alarik said, “That is why stravaganti from Talia can only ever stravagate to your Norvegia, because our founder was from there and the bridge he established connects Talia to Norvegia. We’ve tried experimenting on stravagation from other countries in this world, but so far it has proven difficult.”

“Well, why is he still here?” Dag asked, “why didn’t he go home?”

A somber look passed over his Maestro’s face, “Perhaps I’ll let him tell you that, when you meet him. Soon enough Dag, soon.”

“What was his name?”

At that, Alarik smiled, “He is Knut Leisalla.”

***

Hans di Meridione was at his wits end. For nineteen years, he had been trying to convince the Duchessa to sign the treaty that would annex the lagoon to the rest of the city states. It didn’t help that, soon after the fourth Marriage to the Sea, the Duchessa had closed out the entire city, save for the day of the marriage, and so Hans could only come into the city once a year. It seemed as if each of his yearly visits were no more fruitful than the last, with the Duchessa just as stubborn as always.

With each of his brothers heading their own city state, he’d had his eyes set on Bellezza for a while now. And since he wasn’t getting anywhere with the Duchessa, perhaps it was time to resort to more drastic measures.

“You know your orders?” Hans asked Guido Parola, who nodded. “During the Feast of the Maddalena, I have it on good authority that the real Duchessa will be in the State Mandola. She won’t be heavily guarded there,“ Hans said.

"Do this right and you’ll have enough silver to go to university, have your father treated, and even free that brother of yours from debt.” Hans said, clapping Guido once on the shoulder before walking away.

He paused. Hans turned around and added as an afterthought, “Fail, and I’ll have a more capable assassin finish the job. One who won’t flinch when I ask them to pay a visit to your family as well.”

***

“Maestro, when you mentioned that you and the other stravaganti visit my world and leave talismans. I don’t understand why?” Dag asked.

Alarik looked up from where he was grinding some fine colored powders. “In our order, we believe that when a talisman chooses a stravaganti, it means that the stravaganti is to come help in times of crisis.”

“Is there currently a crisis going on?” Dag asked. So far, from what he’d seen of Bellezza, it was a peaceful city. He hated to think of anything sinister lurking within what seemed like such a perfect place.

Alarik huffed. “Mostly political, there’s been some trouble brewing for several years with the Di Meridione family.”

“I’ve heard that name before.“ Dag said, "Jenny mentioned it when she told me the story of the Glass Mask.”

“Ah, and a sordid tale that was.” Alarik said, “You see Dag, the Di Meridiones have been a powerful family in Talia for centuries.”

Dag nodded, “Jenny mentioned they have family ruling in various city states all over Talia.”

“They do. And there is nothing that family wants more than to have complete dominion over all of Talia. Which includes Bellezza.” Alarik said.

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” Dag looked up at his Maestro, hoping for answers.

Alarik sighed, “You see Dag, the Di Meridiones, they don’t just seek to rule this land, but others as well. Now we stravaganti have worked hard to keep the existence of your world a secret, but spies and assassins are just some of the ways the Di Meridiones get their intel.” With this Alarik heaved a sigh, looking quite concerned, “Thankfully they don’t have concrete evidence or actual knowledge of stravagation yet, but that could change.”

At that, Alarik stood up and kneeled in front of him, placing a hand on Dag’s shoulder. “Before I placed that talisman of yours into your world, I had foreseen that the Di Meridiones were plotting to take Bellezza." 

Alarik looked Dag in the eye, "If you’re asking me what your true purpose for being here is, I cannot say. However I do know that you may just be what we need to help save Bellezza from their grasp.”

Dag let that sink in, trying to imagine himself as some predestined hero. 

Alarik stood up, dusting himself off, “Well, enough of the serious stuff, time to work on this evening’s grand finale!”

Dag smiled, grateful for the change in topic, “How can I help, Maestro?”

“Alright, so for this one, we will need to work together,” Alarik said, uncovering a wire statue in the corner of the laboratory. Upon closer inspection, Dag saw that it was that of a woman, with long flowing hair. “Our Lady Maddalena!” Alarik said, grinning. “You have heard the story of how she destroyed the great dragon by weeping over it, yes?”

“I’m afraid they didn’t teach us that particular story about dragons in Sunday School,” Dag replied sheepishly.

“No matter!” Alarik said. “The story shall be retold…with fireworks!” The gleam in his eyes had returned. “Here, I’ll show you!” 

The rest of the day was spent with them filling the metal framework with different explosives and minerals. “I’ve saved the best for last!” Alarik said, gesturing towards the structure’s hair.

Alarik walked towards a tall ladder and climbed to the top shelf, getting a strange glass flask that looked like it held rainbows inside it. He smiled when he saw Dag staring at it, transfixed. “Moonbows!” He said. “There will be a full moon on the night of the feast, and silver light will shine through each arc of color of the moonbow. And there will be pots of real silver at the end of each lock of hair, silver that Bellezzans will dive into the water for!”

Dag felt his eyes widen, “B-but that’s impossible!”

Alarik laughed, “Nothing is impossible, my boy! In your world magic and science are two different things, here they are one and the same.”

And with that, Dag decided that he would be in Bellezza to marvel at the display they had worked so hard on. No matter what it took.


	13. Chapter 12

Elsa stood by the window of her sitting room, watching the piazza beneath her, as she sometimes liked to do. From her vantage point, she watched as two little girls sat by the fountains, before the younger one splashed the other, giggling madly as the older girl gave chase. She started a little bit when she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Gerda entered with a perfunctory curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said, “I have just finished hearing back from the spy you’ve requested to follow the young girl and finding out as much as I could about her, as you had requested.”

“What have you found out?” Elsa asked. Ever since she saw her from her window a few days ago, Elsa thought of little else except for the girl and her familiar hair and eyes. A part of her heart tugged at the thought, as if already confirming her thoughts.

Most of what Gerda shared was nothing she didn’t already know. The girl was raised by her aunt and uncle on Torrone. If Elsa was right about her suspicions, then she was already well aware of the girl’s family circumstances. What she needed to know was confirmation on who the girl was.

“She goes by Jenny,” Gerda continued.

Elsa felt her spirits sink.

“But her real name is Johanna Maria.”

***

At their favorite bakery, Jenny was polishing off some chocolate biscuits when Dag took the seat across from her. “How goes the fireworks making?” she asked him, pushing the last biscuit toward him.

“How did you know about that?” Dag popped the treat into his mouth. Creating all the fireworks needed for the feast had taken the whole day yesterday. Even when he woke up back in Norway, Dag swore his fingers still smelt of the explosive powders and pigments they had been working with all day. Subtly, he brought a hand to his nose and took a quick whiff, wondering if the smell lingered still.

Jenny grinned. “Please. Signor Alarik always does the fireworks for every grand occasion. And with the Feast of the Maddalena coming up, it only makes sense that he got you to help him.”

Dag only stared at her.

“Also you didn’t show up yesterday and today you smell like gunpowder,” she added, leaning forward and dusting some imaginary powder from his shoulder. “So? How was fireworks making?” she repeated.

“Incredible.” Dag said, grinning. “There’s so much more to it than just mixing and weighing the powders! There’s actual magic! Something I’ve never seen in my own world.” Dag looked around to check if anyone was watching before leaning in “Which is why I need your help with something.”

Jenny rubbed her hands together, and leaned in conspiratorially, “Oooooh, I enjoy seeing this side of you topolino. So mischievous! Pray tell, what is this little secret?”

“I won’t be stravagating back during the feast,” Dag said in a low voice; there were other patrons in the bakery today. “I want to stay behind and watch the fireworks too!” he said. 

“Then the fireworks must be good! If you’re willing to risk staying overnight!” Jenny said, also pitching her voice to an almost whisper. Suddenly, she raised an eyebrow, “Wait…does Signor Alarik approve of this?”

Dag felt guilty, but smiled almost sheepishly. “He doesn’t.” he said, “and you’re not gonna tell him, right?”

Jenny grinned, green eyes sparking with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

As his luck would have it, the Feast of the Maddalena in Bellezza fell on the orphanage’s annual field trip. Every year, patrons and generous donors would partner up with social services to pool together just enough money to send the children of the orphanage someplace nice. Last year it had been The Royal Palace and the Opera House, the year before, a few parties were generous enough to sponsor a trip to Tusenfryd.

This year, it was Geirangerfjord and everyone had been looking forward to it, even Dag. He had originally planned to spend the day sketching the fjord and the scenery, but he’d already made his choice and he was about to stick to it. 

“You’re certain you don’t want to go on the field trip tomorrow?” Kai asked. “You told me you were really looking forward to visiting the fjords!”

“I know,” Dag replied trying to mask his nerves and excitement. “I’m just not feeling up for the trip is all. I’d rather rest here if that’s alright. I’ll get a bit of my reading done, or something.”

Something like worry crossed Kai’s face, “would you prefer it if I stayed here with you?”

Dag shook his head, “Don’t worry about me! With Mr. Hagen still on his honeymoon, you guys are understaffed as it is,” he said. “Besides, someone has to make sure Sofia and Lukas don’t end up lost in the wilderness again,” he teased, remembering the field trip three years past, when the two ten-year-olds, then only seven, had somehow gotten lost in Pulpit Rock, delaying the whole tour by an hour before Anneliese, one of the older orphans, had found them daring each other to stand on Kjeragbolten. 

It had almost given Kai a heart attack and Anneliese Olsen’s screams had practically echoed off of the entire fjord. 

The memory had the desired effect as Dag watched the color slowly drain from Kai’s face at the memory. “Those two will be the death of me,” Kai mumbled. He turned back to look at Dag and reached out a hand to pat his head. “Well, if you’re certain…” Kai said. “I’ll ask Miss Berg to come in and cook for you. She should have her phone on her so promise you’ll call if something comes up?”

“I promise,” Dag said, holding back the grin threatening to spill across his face, “it’s not like I’ll be leaving this room anyway.”

***

When Dag returned to Bellezza the next day, he saw that Alarik was dressed in travelling clothes, wearing a cloak and leather boots, and holding out a similar outfit for Dag. “Get dressed, and quickly,” Alarik told Dag. “We’re going to Montemurato.”

“Today?”

“Yes,” Alarik turned to him, grinning. “I promised you a chance to meet the founder of our order and today is that day! Now tell me, Dag…have you ever been on a horse?”

Dag shook his head as he struggled with the leather boots. He had seen a few horses before, grazing in the fields on the occasional trip to the countryside, but for obvious health reasons, he had never actually ridden one.

“No matter,” Alarik said. “Once we get to the far end of the city, there will be a boat that will take us to the mainland. Once we get to the mainland, it’s about a few hours ride to Montemurato, so I suggest you eat before we leave.” As he spoke, Alarik was walking around the lab, packing vials and papers into his satchel. “I’ll mount first, and you can sit in front of me.” He smiled when he saw Dag’s wary expression, “don’t worry, it’s quite safe. My horse is very gentle.”

Dag shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, finishing up his bootlaces and following his Maestro outside..

The ride to Montemurato wasn’t so bad. Alarik was right, his horse, Castagna, was a handsome and gentle creature, with a rich chestnut coat, which was probably what he was named for. Dag found that Alarik rode extremely fast, although the horse seemed to be galloping faster than possible, so much so that Dag suspected a bit of magic was involved.

Dag, too busy holding on to the saddle horn, was only vaguely aware of the Talian landscape that blurred past them as they rode. As Alarik gradually made Castagna slow down, Dag could see in the distance a walled city on top of a hill.

“Montemurato,” Alarik said. “The walled mountain.”

From where they were, Dag could count twelve towers. “What are those towers for?” he asked.

“Watchtowers,” Alarik replied. “There are guards posted at every one of them.” Alarik reigned Castagna to a gradual canter, until they reached the gate. Alarik dismounted easily, before helping Dag off the horse’s back. “We’re here to visit Knut Leisalla,” Alarik told the guard.

The guard made a mark on a scrap of vellum and handed it to Alarik. “This allows you two to stay in the city till sundown,” he said.

“Thank you,” Alarik replied, “that’s more than enough time.”

After Alarik had Castagna led to a stable and paid for that and the horse’s food, the two set off to find their own lunch, before looking for Knut.

Montemurato was a far cry from Bellezza. Dag took in the grand structures and the impressive cathedral and Palazzo at the very heart of the city state. Unlike Bellezza, which was protected by the lagoon, Dag slowly came to realize that without the vast wall, Montemurato was more exposed to enemies and invaders. Even the way the city was designed, so that the Palazzo and the cathedral were further in instead of nearer the border was a strategic design.

He wondered about the other city states in Talia, what the rest of them might look like. Dag wondered if he would get to see the rest of them too. He found himself hoping that he would. 

They sat on a stone bench to eat the lunch they bought- bread and cheese and tomatoes. As Dag was munching on one of the peaches that Alarik had bought for dessert, Dag asked him, “so where can we find this Knut fellow?”

Alarik took a sip of wine from his flask and wiped his mouth. He frowned for a bit before staring at the flask in his hand and grinning wryly. “I may have an idea about that.”

They approached the kind woman who had sold them the peaches and Alarik asked her which tavern was the best in the city state. It was quite a walk away but by the time they reached it, a loud and boisterous laugh could be heard even from the outside. Alarik chuckled under his breath. He turned down to look at Dag, “it seems we’ve found our spot.”

Inside, the tavern was mostly empty, but Dag figured that was normal since it was the middle of the day. Still, in one of the tables near to the side, sat a short, stocky man. He was well dressed, with a velvet coat and shiny buckles on his shoes, and his hair was oiled back neatly. He laughed heartily as two women, one on each side of him, giggled as they hung on to his every word. 

When they finally approached, the man looked up, took one look at Alarik’s face and seemed to have sobered up entirely. “So you’ve found me.”

Alarik grinned, grasping Dag’s shoulder and giving it a proud squeeze. “Indeed we have.”

***

Knut’s home in Montemurato could have rivaled the Duchessa’s personal quarters. Dag sat and stared in wonder at the lavish sitting room they were led to, where a pretty servant girl laid all manners of sweets and jugs of cordials and honey wine in front of them. She smiled at Dag before taking a bow and having her leave.

Across from them, Knut was already helping himself to a goblet of the sugar wine. He eyed Dag carefully before motioning toward him with a slosh of his goblet. “Is this who I think it is, Alarik?”

Alarik nodded eagerly, “it is why we are here. I thought my new apprentice should meet the founder of our order,” he said. Then leaning forward, Alarik lowered his voice, “and I also have an urgent matter to discuss with you as well.”

Knut waved away the rest of the servants mulling about the room. When they were finally alone, he turned his attention to Dag. “Tell me, boy,” Knut said, his booming voice almost making Dag jump out of his seat, “What has your Maestro told you about me?”

“Oh. Uhm. H-he said you discovered stravagating and that you came from my world.” Dag took pride in managing to maintain eye contact throughout that whole sentence. Something about the man in front of him made him very nervous.

“Aye, but he never did tell you why did he?” Knut leaned back in his seat, his grin had turned smug. “Tell me, boy, what do you know of the Philosopher’s stone?”

Dag’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling as if he had jumped into a Harry Potter film. “It–uhm. The Philosopher’s Stone? Y-you mean that thing that can make gold?” he said.

“Yes!” Knut said, slamming down his goblet unto the table with more force than was necessary. “More precisely, it can turn metal into gold. Any man who would possess it would be richer than any king!

“You see that was my dream.” Knut continued, “Riches, wealth, luxury. Where I come from, if you had gold to your name, your progeny for centuries to come are as good as secured. And,” at this, Knut waved around proudly, “I won’t lie when I say that was, and still am, a man after the finer things in life.”

“So, you searched for the stone?” Dag asked.

Knut sighed, “I tried, certainly. Spent a good decade on it too. But when that didn’t work, something became very clear to me: The Philosopher’s Stone didn’t exist, because no one had created it yet, and if I wanted it, I had to create it myself.”

Alarik laughed, “Amazing what the right motivation can help you achieve.”

“Motivation was only half of it,” Knut agreed, turning his attention back to Dag. “You see I needed to be rich. It was the very core of my person, and after months of studying, researching, and experimenting, one day, it happened!”

“You created the stone?” Dag said.

“No, of course not!” Knut replied, “I was never much of an academic. Pretty sure I got a few chemicals wrong along the way. But what did happen was that I accidentally created a rift between dimensions. A brief explosion in my lab and I was sitting face to face with this,” Knut reached into his coat and pulled out a silver spoon that he held up for Dag to see.

“It’s a spoon.” Dag said, unsure what to make of it. 

“A Talian spoon!” Knut said, gripping the utensil tightly and then stowing it back inside his coat. “You see I owned no such spoon, so imagine my surprise when the explosion created not a stone as I had been expecting, but a perfectly formed piece of cutlery.

“Naturally I was confused. May have gotten drunk in an attempt to drink away the frustration. But, when I passed out, I was holding this spoon, and can you imagine what I saw when I woke up?” Knut said.

“You woke up here,” Dag said slowly, the realization of it all dawning on him.

“Precisely! I woke up in a new world, different from my own! And as fate would have it, in this new world, silver is worth more than gold.” At that Knut waved around the room and the table again. 

This time, Dag’s eyes tracked the movement, and it dawned on him that he was right. Everything around them was gilded in silver, from the utensils to the brocade in the curtains. Now that he thought about it, even in the Duchessa’s room, her chandelier was made of silver and lining her tapestries and carpets were fine whorls of silver thread. “So, what did you do then?” he asked.

“What any self respecting, greedy bastard would do in my place.” Knut said, I took all the silver I had back in my old home and traded it for Talian gold, which I brought back to my world.

“It wasn’t the Philosopher’s Stone as I had hoped, but it was good enough!” Knut said, his eyes twinkling at the distant memory. “For a while, I lived exactly as I had dreamed, like a King! Wine, women and everything else at my beck and call. But when you’re rich, you make enemies out of people you never even knew.” At this Knut’s expression had turned serious, “Some of my more jealous servants started wondering where the gold was coming from, wondering why I slept at odd hours of the day only to come back with gold trinkets and gold coins. I had grown careless.”

Beside him, Alarik’s mouth had set into a thin, grim, line. Dag had the feeling his Maestro didn’t exactly agree with this part of their founder’s story. 

“Eventually,” Knut continued, “One of them spread the rumor that what I was doing was some form of witchcraft, and looking back, I can’t say I blame them. Word spread throughout the surrounding villages, and with Vardø fresh on people’s minds, I knew I didn’t have long before they would come for me.”

Knut had grown somber, Dag sensed that this particular tale was about to end. 

“I had only meant to hide away in Talia while they prosecuted me,” Knut said, “I didn’t realize what would happen if–” he paused and stared at something by his feet. He switched gears, changing the topic suddenly, “Do you know what the main difference between you and I is?” Knut asked.

Dag sputtered, “Uhm. You were born in the sixteenth century and I was born in the twenty-first?”

The statement had Knut spitting out his wine. “Good god, has it been that long already?” He paused, the weight of that knowledge settling on him for a moment before he seemingly pulled himself together. “Well. No that isn’t what I was referring to. Walk with me to the window over there.” He motioned for Dag to follow him. 

Dag turned to look at his Maestro, Alarik’s expression was still quite serious, but he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave a small nod of encouragement. He stood up and walked over to the window where Knut was waiting for him. 

The window was large, reaching from the ceiling to the floor, and when he looked out of it he could see the hustle and bustle of Montemurato below, children playing about in the streets while young men carried sacks of flour and sugar or pushed along wheelbarrows of wine and ale. “What am I meant to be seeing?” Dag asked.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction, boy.” Knut said, placing a hand on Dag’s shoulder and turning him back around and facing away from the window.

Dag stared pleadingly at Alarik, silently begging for a hint. His Maestro motioned pointedly at the floor towards their feet. When Dag looked down, he was met with a sight he’d grown quite accustomed to over the weeks he’s spent in Talia. Where his shadow should be there was nothing, however when he looked beside him, to where Knut was standing, he could see the other man’s shadow spread out before them, clear as day. Dag looked up in alarm.

Knut’s responding smile was equal parts sad and knowing. “You see boy, while I was hiding away here in Talia, my treacherous servants had called together a mob in the village. While I slept they robbed me clean and then burned down my house, with my sleeping body still inside.”

Dag felt his insides grow cold.

“You can imagine my surprise then,” Knut said, “After growing used to being a stranger with no shadow in this new world, I suddenly look down to find that my shadow has followed me here. It was then that I knew, my life in Norway was done. If I ever returned, they’d probably kill me again. So I’ve been here ever since.”

“Of course,” Alarik said suddenly, walking over to steer Dag back toward the couch, “What he didn’t know yet was that what had happened to him would cause the sudden time disparity between our two worlds.”

“Yes, that.” Knut said, rejoining them at the couches and pouring himself another drink. “You see, while I had been engaging in my…less than noble endeavors between this world and mine, I managed to make the acquaintance of Alarik and his troupe, who, as it just so happened, were also studying the bridge between our worlds. I became their great breakthrough, and in exchange for helping me, ah, sell some of my world’s silver for this world’s gold, I brought back a few items from my world here so that they can engage in stravagating themselves. They do the academic work, I simply do most of the financing.”

“Your contribution has been a great help to our studies,” Alarik said, even though Knut simply waved his statement away with a lazy flick of his hand. 

“So,” Dag said, finally finding his voice. “If you were to try and go back to Norway now…”

“Talia is my home world now.” Knut replied, “My real body is here. If I tried to go back, I’d go back to being what you are now. A stranger with no shadow.”

“We call it translation,” Alarik said kindly, almost as if sensing Dag’s distress. “When his real body died in his real world, his spirit moved entirely to the copy of himself in Talia, solidifying into a real body and a shadow. An unnatural and sudden process that disrupted the bridge between our worlds and caused a time disparity that we’ve yet to stabilize to this day.”

Dag nodded, finally seeing the whole picture. He looked from his Maestro, to Knut, and back again. “What happens if it’s the other way around?” he asked.

Knut’s eyebrows raised almost to his hairline, and beside him, Alarik stiffened slightly. Dag continued, “I mean, what happens to my real body if my copy dies here in Talia?”

Knut downed the rest of his drink and looked away. A cold shiver ran down Dag’s spine. Alarik cleared his throat, “Your soul would be lost, unable to return to your original body back in Norvegia.”

*~*


	14. Chapter 13

Dag couldn’t relax.

Throughout the ride back to Talia from Montemurato, he kept thinking about the conversation he had had with Knut Leisalla, about how he could be forever trapped in Talia if his body died back in Norway.

Would the same thing happen to him? What happened if his body succumbed to the cancer while he was in Talia? Would that mean he would never be able to return to Norway? And what if something happened to him while in Talia? Even his Maestro, whom Dag had always thought seemed to have all the answers, didn’t know.

This whole time, Dag had almost let himself believe that his travels to Talia were a wonderful dream, or a fun adventure. In a way, it was, but it was only now that the dangers began to feel very real to him.

When they finally reached Alarik’s lab again, the sun was about to set. 

As they alighted from Alarik’s horse, something caught Dag’s peripheral vision. A sudden dart of movement, easy enough to dismiss, but with his nerves already shot, it set his paranoia on edge. Dag had the strangest feeling that he was being followed. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept on seeing the same man with a dark green cape. At first, it was only in Bellezza, but he could’ve sworn he had seen the same man in Montemurato as well. But before Dag could get a good look, the man was gone.

“What is it Dag?” Alarik said, waiting for him at the entrance of the lab.

Dag shook his head before following his Maestro inside. “Nothing,” he said, “probably just a trick of the light.”

Alarik frowned and put a hand on his shoulder as he led him upstairs to the room where he could stravagate back to Norway. “I know that what you learned today was troubling to say the least,” his Maestro said, voice comforting, “and I wish I could offer you some comfort with regards to your illness back in your original world.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dag said, it was a default answer, something he had grown accustomed to repeating whenever someone brought up his cancer.

“Let me at least promise you this,” Alarik said, looking him square in the eye as he laid down on the bed, “While you are here in Talia, under my care, I swear I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you understand?”

Dag smiled and nodded. “Yes. Thank you Maestro.” He watched as Alarik left the room, no doubt to also begin preparing for the festival that evening. Dag let his words wash over him, cherishing the comfort they provided. He began to feel bad for betraying Alarik’s trust by going back in secret later on to watch the fireworks. 

However those feelings faded to the back of his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

***

When he awoke back on Norway, it was the day of the field trip. Dag watched as the other children boarded the rented bus to go to Geirangerfjord. The only other ones who would be left in the orphanage would be the babies and toddlers in the nursery. Which meant that Dag had an entire wing to himself. He would spend the night of the Feast of the Maddalena in Bellezza, and no one would be the wiser.

He didn’t miss the look of concern on Kai’s face right before he boarded the bus. In truth, Dag felt a little guilty to be going behind his back like this. But, he reasoned with himself, he hadn’t exactly been lying when he said he wouldn’t be leaving his room. At least, his body wouldn’t be.

Once he waved off the bus, watching it disappear past the gate, he high tailed into his back inside, eager to get to his bedroom.

“Dag, sweetie!” He halted right at the foot of the steps. Miss Berg, the orphanage cook and part-time governess was approaching him from the kitchens, drying her hands on a towel. “I’ll be preparing lunch soon, what would you like?”

“Oh, Miss Berg.” Dag gripped the stairs tightly and managed to fake a wince, “I’m actually not feeling so well. I might just lie down and take a nap.”

She frowned. “Alright dear. I’ll check in on you later alright?” Miss Berg smiled before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. 

Dag heaved a quiet sigh of relief and raced on up to his bedroom and found his marbled notebook talisman. He laid down on his bed, talisman in his hands, and willed himself to fall asleep━ something he found difficult, due to his nerves and excitement.

Eventually, he found himself thinking of fireworks, and silver, and mandolas gliding across the canals, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

***

When he awoke in Talia again, it was already dark outside and the lively sounds of people out in the streets reached his ears from the outside. He crept quietly down the steps of the laboratory, just in case Alarik was still inside. Blessedly his Maestro was nowhere to be seen and the majority of the firework equipment was gone as well.

Outside, the streets were filled with people, laughing, dancing, and drinking. Tables were set up outside houses and taverns, all laden with food and wine. As he headed to his meeting spot with Jenny, a woman on the street smiled and offered him a silver medallion with an image of a figure that looked like the Mother Mary. “May the Goddess smile upon you,” she said, as he passed.

“Topolino, you made it!” Jenny cried when she saw Dag approach, a wide grin on his face.

“I did!” Dag replied. It was so unlike him to be so rebellious, he was always such a stickler for rules, but this little act of rebellion made him feel a rush of adrenaline that he hadn’t ever felt before. “So, where’s the best spot to watch the fireworks?”

Jenny clapped him on the shoulder, grinning, “leave that up to me,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and running through various sidestreets. “This is my first time on the mainland for the Feast of the Maddalena,” she said as she ran, “all my life I’ve looked over from the shores of Torrone and wished I could see the fireworks from the best view in all of Bellezza.”

“What’s the best view?” Dag asked, narrowly avoiding a heavy set man who was balancing a large, wooden, pizza tray in his arms.

“Right here.” Jenny said, coming to a stop just to the side of Bellezza’s main port. It overlooked the entire lagoon and from where they stood, Dag had a pretty good view of Ducal Palace where a grand mandola was docked, awaiting the Duchessa no doubt.

“Brilliant,” he said, smiling at Jenny.

She smiled back and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m looking forward to this topolino! You stay here and guard our spot, I’ll go find us something to eat.” 

***

Elsa adjusted her mask as she sat with her double and Gerda in the State Mandola. While her double, dressed in a replica gown and mask, sat looking nervous, Elsa was deep in thought, thinking about the news that Gerda had given her earlier.

The past sixteen years, she had tried not to dwell on that night, or what she did. She had woken up crying for the first two months, the phantom emptiness in her arms was more painful than the actual birth. Although there was almost no doubt in her mind now who this young girl was, she felt an innate fear creep up within her.

Before she could dwell too much on it though, Gerda turned to her and said, “Your Grace. It’s time.”

Elsa couldn’t help her wince. She wasn’t happy about the escort for this particular feast.

The blasted Di Meridione ambassador, Hans, was going to be the one to lead the Duchessa to the newly opened Cathedral of the Maddalena. In previous years the Duchessa had been accompanied by other members of her Senate, and on one year, her favorite, it had even been Alarik.

However, ever since the di Meridiones began taking more and more interest in her city state nearly ten years ago, Hans di Meridione had been worming his way into all the state events. Attending ducal meetings, even hard pressing her to grant him permanent clemency so that he could remain on Bellezza on the Forbidden Day. He was getting harder and harder to avoid these days so Elsa had been working twice as hard to make sure he never discovered that she had been using doubles. 

She stood up and walked over to her double for this event and stared her squarely in the eye. “Giuliana, right?” The young woman nodded, a little more nervous than she had been during the Marriage to the Sea.

“Yes, Your Grace.” She said, standing up and managing a brief curtsy. 

Elsa reached out to adjust Guiliana’s mask. “There’s no need to be nervous, in many ways, this will be easier than the Marriage to the Sea. When you exit this room, don’t make eye-contact with your escort, just nod in his direction, take his hand, and allow him to lead you across the mandolas. Keep your head held high, wave to the public along the shore, and smile if you’d like. Once you reach the Cathedral, simply attend the service as you would any other. When it’s over, Gerda and my other ladies-in-waiting will be ready to escort you back here.”

“What happens if someone tries to speak to me, Your Grace?” Giuliana asked, voice practically trembling. 

Elsa sighed, and managed a smile, “No need to be worried. If anyone talks to you, simply give them a smile and nod, no matter what it is they say. When everything is done, Gerda will speak to you after, you will tell her if anyone told you anything of importance.” she said. “Now, off you go.”

It was crucial that no one saw the Duchessa with her double, and so, as the Duchessa’s double stepped out, trembling with nerves, Elsa remained deep inside her tent, hands clasping together and praying to the Goddess that everything would go well this evening. 

Little did Elsa know, Hans already knew all about her double charade. As he took the expected bow when the ‘Duchessa’ stepped out, he tried to peek through the curtain to see if the real one really was inside. Unfortunately for him, the curtain was closed quickly. 

“Good evening, Duchessa,” Hans said, he didn’t bother to keep the sneer out of his voice. 

The imposter beside him nodded and took his hand. So it began.

In theory, the Duchessa’s role during the Feast of the Maddalena was simple. Accompanied by her escort, she would walk across the bridge of boats created by the other mandoliers, all the way from her State Mandola to the Cathedral. It was a procession that inspired unity amongst the mandoliers and secured them another fruitful year ahead.

Once Hans had safely lead the fake Duchessa to the cathedral and the public was too busy scrambling around the lagoon pocketing silver coins, the assassin he hired should have no problem sneaking aboard the State Mandola unnoticed. From there he should do the job, and leave with no one being any wiser.

Hans cast a hungry eye around the lagoon, at the crowds of adoring public waving happily to their Duchessa, at the finely crafted mandolas that are built to carry goods. If he played his cards right, this would all be his soon. As he walked across the different mandolas, getting nearer and nearer the cathedral, he felt something like anticipation build up in his gut. 

“Not long now Duchessa,” he said with a grin.

The woman beside him nodded.

***

The moon was rising in the sky when the first rocket went up, whizzing through the air and exploding above the city and the lagoon. “That’s one of mine!” Dag cried out proudly as he sat beside Jenny, both of them munching on some cornetti con panna. Dag licked some of the creamy custard off his fingers as he kept his eyes firmly trained on the sky.

“Brilliant, topolino!” Jenny cried. 

“That’s not even the best one!” Dag replied, swelling with pride as he heard the oohs and ahhhs of the crowd.

As the next fireworks shot up into the sky, the crowd gasping in awe, nobody noticed a figure slipping quietly towards the State Mandola.

After the rockets came the more complex segment of the fireworks, the ones where they took the forms of different animals. First a peacock spread its tail, blue and green and purple. Then the ram ran across the sky, scattering red and gold stars. Then fishes made of fireworks swam around, playfully splashing, their blue and green scales glittering in the night sky.

Finally, a green dragon blazed across the sky. It opened its great mouth, and fireworks of orange and gold spewed from it. Finally, one could see the set piece of the Maddalena, a huge crystal tear falling from her eye and dissolving the dragon into millions of stars. 

As if one cue, the full moon reached its peak, illuminating the Maddalena’s flowing hair. From the ground, it seemed as if glittering starlight was trickling down from her locks and into the lagoon, but soon enough, Dag heard the splashes of bags of silver hitting the water. All around him, he watched as men, women and children began diving in, laughing or crying out “Dia!” before jumping into the water.

Beside him, Jenny was laughing, “Everyone always goes after the bags of silver. It’s supposed to be enough to feed a family for an entire year.”

Dag looked at her, then to the sky, where the giant Maddalena was still staring down at her beloved city, her hair still raining bags of silver. He thought back to his fears earlier in the day and to how he felt right now, fully alive in a magical world where anything seemed possible.

Before he knew it, he had jumped into the lagoon with a triumphant shout as well. 

***

“Incredible” Elsa thought as she watched the fireworks while peering from behind the silver brocade curtain. “Alarik’s really outdone himself this year,” she thought, smiling. 

When the fireworks reached its end, she watched with fondness as the Bellezzan citizens dove into the canals after the bags of silver, wishing that she herself could feel as wild and free. She remembered a time when Kristoff had done the same, just to see the smile on Anna’s face, even if he did come back empty handed. For once, that memory of the past made her smile.

The Bellezzans did indeed love their city, something that Elsa was fondly reminded of tonight. These were her people, she belonged to them as much as they belonged to her. No matter what happened, she could not afford to abandon them to the di Meridione’s evil schemes. 

Just as she leaned backwards to wait for the State Mandola to be brought back to the palazzo, the silver curtain was wrenched open, a Merlino blade pressed to her throat.

***

Dag came up from the water, sputtering and spitting out the foul tasting canal water. He was only vaguely aware of the bag of silver in his hand that he had managed to dive for, his main concern was not drowning. He thought for a moment about the notebook talisman still in his pocket, but soon enough, the cold water brought him to his senses, to the more pressing matter of finding dry land. 

He began to panic when he realized that he had drifted to the center of the canal, far away from the docks. When he tried to look back to the docks, he couldn’t see any sign of Jenny, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to swim all the way back.

At the first sight of a passing mandola, he grabbed on to the side of it, hauling himself aboard.

***

Nobody moved and nobody said a word as the assassin still had his blade pressed against the Duchessa’s throat. Gerda was backed against the wall, tears streaming down her face and Elsa silently prayed that Gerda wouldn’t try to intervene, lest something happen to her as well. 

Against her neck, she felt her assassin’s hand tremble. “The Goddess may not forgive you for what you’re about to do,” she said, her voice calm, “but know that your Duchessa does.”

Behind her, the assassin tightened his grip, she winced at the sting of the blade just barely piercing her flesh. “Quiet!” the man hissed, “I’ll make quick work of you.”

Elsa closed her eyes, accepting her fate, but a thousand regrets flooding through her mind.

For her beloved city. For Alarik. For the laughing girl she had seen in the piazza.

Suddenly, the mandola lurched violently, and a young man dragged himself inside. 

Dag sputtered for a moment, before registering the scene. He looked from the cloaked figure to the Duchessa herself, still looking as regal as ever even against the point of a knife. The sight awoke something instinctive in him, just like before when he had jumped into the lagoon.

Before he could think twice, he drew his own Merlino blade from its sheath on his side and tackled the assassin to the ground. 

*~*


	15. Chapter 14

The mandola rocked violently in the water, with too many people inside it. Lucky for Dag, he had the element of surprise and by the time the scuffle was over, he was standing victorious over the Duchessa’s would-be assassin.

Gerda opened the silver curtain and shouted for the mandolier steering the State Mandola to come help them. The mandolier stopped steering and turned around, jaw going slack at the sight before him.

“Don’t just stare, help us!” Gerda cried out.

The mandolier helped Dag bind the assassin using the silver cords used on the brocade curtains. Dag took the assassin’s Merlino blade and held on to it, sheathing his own Merlino blade back where it belonged.

Elsa took a moment to compose herself. After Dag had tackled the assassin to the ground, she had rushed over to Gerda to make sure the matronly woman was okay. Now that it was all over, she addressed the mandolier. “Marco, is it?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he said, not completely sure what was going on, and why the Duchessa was back at the State Mandola when she was supposed to be at the Cathedral.

“You have done a good service by helping us tonight, and you will be rewarded. But you are to tell no one of this until this man’s trial. Understood?”

Marco nodded. “Yes milady,” he said.

“Now,” Elsa said, straightening her skirt. “Please take us back to the Palazzo, as discreetly as possible.”

***

The guards waiting at the steps of the Palazzo seemed surprised to see the Duchessa back so soon, but knew better than to question it. The trussed up assassin was taken to the dungeon, and a dripping wet Dag was led to the Duchessa’s private apartments.

Once Dag, Elsa, and Gerda were safe inside the Duchessa’s rooms, it seemed as if an entire barrage of waiting women appeared to fuss around them. “That won’t be necessary,” Elsa told the group of women, “Gerda and I shall manage.”

When the other waiting women left, Elsa approached Dag and gently took his face in her hands, examining it side to side. “Are you hurt?” she asked softly. At the shake of Dag’s head, she noticed Dag’s chattering teeth and clasped his shoulders. “You’re shivering,” she said, turning to Gerda. “Gerda! Please prepare a hot bath for this young man, before he catches his death staying in these wet clothes of his.” 

Elsa pointed towards an elaborate set of embroidered silk panels a little ways off, which Dag presumed had a bathtub behind it.

Before Dag could follow Gerda towards the nice warm bath, the bookshelf at the other end of the room swung open.

“I came here as soon as the guard told me a bit of what happened!” Alarik said, panting heavily as he came through the passageway. He paused at the sight of Dag, dripping wet and still shivering, “Dag? Why are you still in Bellezza?” he asked, “and why are you all wet?”

“I…uhhh… dove into the canals for the silver?” Dag said, almost sheepishly, gesturing toward the bag of silver strapped to his drenched trousers.

Alarik raised an eyebrow. “More importantly, what are you doing here? With the Duchessa?”

“Alarik,” Elsa said quietly. “He saved my life.”

He turned towards Elsa, his brow raised in confusion.

“Dag?” Elsa said, “Please follow Gerda and get into the bath before the water gets cold. Your Maestro and I have much to discuss.”

***

When Dag disappeared behind the silk panels at the far end of the room, Elsa lead Alarik to a cluster of chairs to explain all that had happened.

“An assassin?” Alarik asked, face pale as a ghost,

Elsa nodded, wincing when the movement brought into sharp focus the sting from the cut caused by the Merlino blade.

“Elsa, you’re hurt,” Alarik said, eyeing the cut on her neck.

“It’s nothing…” Elsa said, but Alarik was already walking towards the passageway.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared into the hidden tunnel that lead to his laboratory. 

Elsa clasped her hands as she waited. In truth, the sting of the cut on her neck was the least of her concerns. She could still feel the adrenaline surging through her veins from her encounter with the assassin earlier that evening. When she unclasped her hands, she could see that her fingers were still trembling. 

Alarik soon returned carrying a bundle of clothes, a bottle of alcohol, some cotton swabs, and what looked like a small jar. The clothes he set down near the paneling where Dag was bathing. Then, Alarik placed the other items down on the table where she sat and knelt in front of her, gentle fingers tilting her chin up ever so slightly so he could assess the cut. He uncorked the bottle of alcohol and poured some of it into the cotton swab. “This will sting a little,” he murmured.

Elsa nodded, wincing a little when he gently pressed the cotton against the cut on her neck. More than that though, she was suddenly hyper aware of how near Alarik was. She could feel the warmth of his fingers through the cotton. A part of her briefly wondered if he could feel how her pulse thrummed just beneath her skin.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still focused on the task at hand. He handed her the jar. “This is an herbal salve. You can apply it over the cut to ease the stinging. It will also help heal it faster.” Alarik began to rise from the floor, but Elsa held on to his hand.

“Can you…can you help me with it please?” she asked, already holding back her hair that had fallen loose during the struggle.

Alarik blinked at her, looking from her long pale neck, with an angry pink line running across from it, to her wide blue eyes, and nodded. He took some of the salve from the jar and spread it across her cut, and Elsa breathed a sigh of relief. He let his fingers linger for just a moment longer than was actually necessary. “Elsa, I-”

“Ummmm…excuse me? Your Grace? Maestro?” came Dag’s voice from behind the paneling. “I…uhh…my clothes are still wet…would you happen to…?” His voice trailed off.

Elsa and Alarik moved away from each other suddenly. Alarik cleared his throat, “I brought you some from the lab Dag, they’re near the panel.”

Dag’s voice drifted back from the panel, smaller and quieter. “Oh.”

A heavy silence lingered while Dag began to change. Alarik looked away from Elsa and mumbled something rather incoherent.

“You…what?” Elsa asked, looking up at him expectantly.

“I…I should get Dag back,” Alarik repeated, only now realizing how close they had really been just a few moments ago, and standing up quickly.

“Oh. Oh yes, of course,” Elsa said, watching him go. “And Alarik?”

Alarik turned around. “Yes?”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Elsa said, an almost motherly tone to her voice.

Alarik’s eyes softened, smiling at her fondly. “I won’t be,” he said, walking over to a freshly bathed and fully-clothed Dag. He chanced a final look at Elsa before leading his apprentice back into the passageway that led to his lab.

***

Jenny wasn’t sure if she was worried, or furious, or both. All she really knew was that Dag had disappeared on her again. She huffed, wondering if this disappearing act was going to be a habit of his. 

When Dag had jumped into the water to dive for the bag of silver, Jenny had laughed at his silliness. But when he had failed to resurface from the water, Jenny had gotten worried. Suppose he had forgotten how to swim, or he got hit by one of the many mandolas gliding by?

She waited it out for a bit, just in case someone screamed bloody murder at the sight of a floating body in the lagoon. When nothing happened, she managed to convince herself that maybe he resurfaced on a dock farther away and went back to Alarik’s laboratory. Heaving a sigh, Jenny made the walk back to her Zia Beata’s house alone, hoping that Dag had managed to stravagate back home safely enough.

It was getting close to midnight when Jenny walked back to her Zia Beata’s house. Many of the children who had gone to watch the fireworks had long fallen asleep, being carried home in their mother’s arms. Jenny wondered for a moment if she would ever find her own mother among the countless women she saw in the city.

She wondered, not for the first time, what she must be like? Was she strict? Or easygoing, like her Zia Anna? Did she have uncontrollable red curls, like herself, and have trouble running a brush through it? Did she prefer to wear her hair loose, letting the wind blow through it?

When Jenny finally reached her Zia Beata’s house, she found herself no closer to any answers than when she first started her search.

***

Giuliana was terrified. Her task as the Duchessa’s double was supposed to end over half an hour ago, when she was to be collected by the Duchessa’s waiting woman, and yet no one had come. She was still walking across the Piazza on the arm of the ambassador Hans, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the charade. While she managed to keep a somewhat calm facade, inside she was trembling with nerves. 

Finally, Gerda came to relieve her of her duties, leading her away from the ambassador.

“Apologies, ambassador,” Gerda said, “Her Grace will just need a few moments to freshen up. Please await her in the reception hall before the feast.”

Giuliana tried not to outwardly sigh with relief. Instead she nodded once more to the di Meridione ambassador, something she’d done over five times throughout the course of the evening now, took Gerda’s arm and let herself be led away.

Hans nodded, unaware that Gerda had been in the State Mandola earlier and had witnessed the earlier assassination attempt. He had made it very clear to Guido Parola that all witnesses were to be dealt with as well. Pretty soon, the State Mandola would be retrieved, and the bodies found. 

When he reached the Grand Hall in the Palazzo where the feast was to take place, Hans took an offered goblet of wine and drank deeply, toasting to his victory.

***

Back in his laboratory, once the entrance to the tunnel was closed, Alarik turned to Dag with a stern look on his face.

Dag avoided his Maestro’s gaze, suddenly fixated on his boots. “Maestro, I–”

“Are you hurt?” Alarik asked, kneeling in front of Dag and taking him by the shoulders, eyes surveying him for any injuries.

“Uh, er.” Dag was taken aback, he was expecting a harsh sermon on the consequences of staying in Bellezza when he shouldn’t have. Anything but this sudden concern. “No, Maestro, I’m fine.”

In front of him, Alarik heaved a sigh of relief, eyes closing and shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. “Thank the Goddess for that,” he said. 

The guilt came back tenfold now, Dag cleared his throat before saying, “I’m sorry I stayed behind, Maestro. I know I promised I wouldn’t but we had such a nice time making fireworks and I thought–”

Alarik shook his head, looking Dag straight in the eye. “Dag, I couldn’t care less if you had stayed the whole night in Bellezza. My concern is you taking your life in your hands like that. Els–The Duchessa told me what you did for her.”

“Oh that,” Dag looked away in embarrassment, “I had to Maestro! That man was going to kill her and I couldn’t just–”

He suddenly found himself enveloped in his Maestro’s arms. Dag blinked a few times, stunned, before he returned the gesture, suddenly feeling the weight of the previous day and the evening’s events crashing down around him. If a few errant tears escaped his eyes and trickled unto Alarik’s shoulder, his Maestro was kind enough not to mention them.

“Please,” Alarik said, “promise me you’ll never risk your life so carelessly again!”

Dag nodded, the lump in his throat making it hard for him to speak. When he pulled away at last, it was to the sight of Alarik smiling at him. They both managed an awkward chuckle.

“So,” Dag said, “I guess this means you aren’t mad, huh?”

Alarik laughed, “No Maestro could be prouder of his apprentice than I am right now.”

***

At the top of the marble staircase, Elsa arrived, resplendent in a gown of deep blue with silver lining, the lace on her collar a little higher than normal, to hide the cut on her neck. Her hair that had fallen loose had been redone into the same style it had been in earlier, the pearls and diamonds pinned back onto it. Behind her satin mask, her eyes searched across the sea of people who had cheered at the sight of her, until she finally caught sight of whom she was looking for. 

She locked eyes with the di Meridione ambassador, who nearly choked on his wine at seeing her very much alive and well.

She smirked. She was going to have some fun tonight.

Descending the stairs, she kept her eyes fixed on Hans. Gerda had already briefed her on everything Giuliana had shared during the ceremony at the mass at the Cathedral. When she finally reached the rest of the guests waiting at the Grand Hall, she made sure to greet each and every one of them personally, saving the di Meridione ambassador for last.

When she finally faced him, it didn’t escape her notice how his mouth dropped at the sight of her, lips moving wordlessly before he remembered himself and gave the customary bow.

“Thank you once again for being my escort this evening,” Elsa said, loud and clear. There would be no mistaking her for her double now. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Ambassador. Not many are given the privilege of escorting me during public events.”

“I-it was an honor, Duchessa.” Hans still hadn’t straightened from his bow.

“I should say though, it’s rather rude to carry on conversation during the Mass of the Maddalena as you did earlier.” Elsa, of course, was referencing what Giuliana had shared about how Hans had kept trying to get her to talk during the Cathedral Mass. “You’ll forgive me if I wasn’t replying.”

Hans stammered before bowing a little deeper, the tips of his ears turning red. “I apologize for my rudeness Duchessa.”

“Your Duchessa forgives you,” Elsa said, “even though the Goddess may not. I hope you’ll remember this day the next time you try something so…disrespectful again.”

With that, she walked away, feeling a surge of righteous triumph and vindication. If throughout the evening, Hans di Meridione seemed both frightened and frustrated at the same time, it only served to brighten Elsa’s mood.

*~*


	16. Chapter 15

“Dag? Dag?”

Dag was soon suddenly aware of his room in Norway swimming into view. He remembered going to sleep in Bellezza so that he could stravagate home, but he had been expecting to peacefully wake up in his room. What he hadn’t been expecting was Kai standing over him, looking worried.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake, Dag!” Kai said. Dag found himself on the receiving end of a tight hug from his houseparent. From the looks of things, it was mid-afternoon.

“Did I oversleep?” Dag asked, rubbing a knuckle at his eye.

“You could say that,” Kai said, still looking worried. “I’ve been trying to wake you for thirty minutes now.”

The news startled Dag awake, he sat up and looked around, trying to gather his bearings. “W-why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the fjord? What happened to the field trip?”

Kai shook his head, “we had to end it early, Lukas had gotten sick in the middle of the tour. We left at once and dropped him off at the local clinic.”

“Oh,” Dag tried to come up with another explanation for why he had been unresponsive for a second time but came up empty. The sudden worry felt like lead at the bottom of his stomach.

“When I got back, I asked Miss Berg how you were doing and she said you went to take a nap and never came back down! That you didn’t even have lunch.” Kai said, his voice was frantic now. “When I tried to wake you up you wouldn’t respond. I thought–”

“I–” Dag focused on his fingers. He couldn’t bear to meet the worried look in Kai’s eyes, knowing that in some way, he had caused it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry.” He said simply, knowing at least that it was the truth.

Kai took a deep breath, as if trying to regain his calm, before fixing Dag with another serious look, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

***

Back in Torrone, Anna’s cake was very nearly ready. It was a slightly larger version of the cake she had served to Jenny and her new friend a few weeks ago, with two layers instead of one. Anna was hoping to send it to Beata’s house with Kristoff when he made the deliveries to the Bellezzan port.

Anna dusted some more sugar on top of the cake, being so generous with her dusting that some of it scattered around the kitchen, getting on her cheeks and hair. She added some plump ripe strawberries on top of the cake, arranging it just so. Anna stood back and admired her work, when she heard a knock on the door.

“I’m coming!” she called out, dusting out her hands and wiping it on her apron. Anna walked out of the kitchen and to the front door, opening it. “Sorry about the mess, I-” Anna’s voice faltered at the sight before her.

Standing in front of her, dressed in plain clothing with a cloak around her, and unmasked, was her sister.  
“Hello Anna,” she said, hands clasped before her. “Can I come in? I-” before Elsa could finish her sentence, Anna pulled Elsa inside, embracing her tightly.

“Is it really you?” Anna asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Elsa laughed a little, stroking her sister’s hair. “It’s me.” She pulled back, examining Anna. “Now when did you get so big?” If her voice cracked just a little bit on the last word, Anna was kind enough not to bring it up.

Instead, Anna burst out laughing. “Elsa, I was already an adult with a child the last time I saw you! You should be saying that to Neta!”

“Ah yes, she’s in Burlesca, right?” Elsa asked. She remembered Anna mentioning in her letters that Neta had married and moved to the nearby island.

Anna nodded, and noticed that Elsa was still looking around the house intently. “She’s…she’s not here,” Anna said. And Anna wasn’t talking about Neta.

Elsa looked at her straight in the eye. “I know,” she said quietly.

“You know?”

“I saw her in the piazza the other day…”

Anna’s eyes grew wide. “Did you speak to her? What did she say? What did YOU say?”

Elsa wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead becoming very interested in the tiling on the wall. “I…didn’t say anything. I only saw her through the window of my room. We haven’t–I haven’t.”

“But why not?” Anna asked. “Elsa…she’s been asking about you almost her entire life…you can’t tell me you don’t want to see her!”

Elsa had a pained look on her face. “Don’t want to see her? Of course I want to see her! I’ve wanted nothing else for nearly sixteen years! But I…I can’t…it’s still not safe, I’m not safe and I….I…” Elsa’s face crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands.

Anna took Elsa’s hands in hers, stroking her fingers gently. They stayed like that for a while, taking comfort in their own personal shared silence, just like when they were kids.

“Were you–” Elsa hesitated, staring at Anna tearfully before continuing, “With Neta, did you ever feel…ready?”

Anna managed a short chuckle, “Heavens no! In fact I distinctly remember thinking that I was terrified I would make a mistake for about most of her childhood. But I guess…” Anna paused, seemingly searching for the right words, “I guess in the end you just, go with your gut and do what you feel is right.” Anna said.

In front of her, Elsa heaved a long sigh. Anna cupped her sister’s face in her hands and looked her in the eye. “Elsa, you listen to me.” Anna said, “Maybe you’re not yet ready to see your daughter, and I can respect that. But know this…you have never been, and will never be a danger to her,” she said, wiping a tear from Elsa’s cheek.

Elsa nodded, giving her sister a watery smile before making her way to the small dining table, one she remembered well from her childhood, and sitting down. “There’s…there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about…” Elsa said.

Anna sat down in front of her sister. Hands folded together. “You can tell me anything Elsa,” Anna said.

Elsa smiled and reached out for her sister’s hand. Wondering where to begin. “D-do you remember when I, when I had to send you away?”

Anna’s frown deepened but she nodded.

“I’m sorry if I had hurt you,” Elsa said, “But the night before, I had received word that the di Meridione were beginning their plot to try and take Bellezza from me.”

Anna’s grip tightened, but she remained silent. Elsa drew strength from that grip.

“I didn’t want them to–” Elsa took a deep breath, trying to talk past the lump in her throat, “If they had done something and they somehow found out about…me and what I could–” Elsa paused and bit back a sob, feeling the familiar sting in the back of her eyes. Around them, the temperature in Anna’s cottage had already dropped by several degrees, and Elsa was already shaking. A thin layer of frost was forming on the table where their hands were joined. Still, Anna gripped Elsa’s hand tighter.

“I didn’t want you or Kristoff to get hurt and you had Neta and–” Elsa’s voice cracked and she looked away for a moment, already feeling a few telltale tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Before she knew it, Anna had already pulled her into a hug.

“I understand.” Anna said softly, stroking her sister’s hair. “It’s okay Elsa, you did what you thought you had to do.”

Elsa took a few moments to calm herself, breathing deeply in the safe circle of her sister’s arms until the sobs finally stopped. When she pulled back to look at Anna again, her expression was one of determination.

“Anna, during the feast of the Maddalena, someone tried to assassinate me in my State Mandola, and these past few months, Hans di Meridione has been a constant presence in my Senate. Butting into meetings, attending private councils, even forcing me to grant him clemency so he could be in Bellezza even during the Forbidden Day.”

Anna’s expression had grown dark, but her eyes were bright with concern.

“I think–” Elsa said, “No. I know that none of these are coincidences. Hans is going to try and take Bellezza, and it might happen soon. Sooner than I would like. I thought I could protect you by hiding you out here, but I see now that I may have gone about things the wrong way.”

It was at that exact moment that Kristoff came barging through the front door, a stunned look on his face at the sight of his sister-in-law with his wife. “Well, this is certainly a surprise,” he said.

Anna laughed at her husband before turning to her sister and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder, “How can we help you?”

***

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Dag asked Kai as the two of them sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Dag wasn’t the biggest fan of the hospital, even if he was used to it.

“I think so,” said Kai, eyeing the clock on the wall. “What happened earlier didn’t seem like a normal case of oversleeping, and Doctor Andersen did say to let him know if anything unusual had happened since his last visit”

Dag could think of a number of unusual things that had happened since Doctor Andersen’s last visit, and failing to wake up for thirty minutes was the least of it. Still, it didn’t quite help his case that he couldn’t exactly share the truth with Kai. If he did he’d probably just find himself strapped to a CT scan.

“I promise I really feel fine though. Fit enough to run a marathon even!” Dag said. The last thing he wanted was to get confined in the hospital overnight, especially not after his last visit to Bellezza.

Kai gave him a smile but the motion of it didn’t reach his eyes. Dag looked away.

“If–” Kai took a deep breath and tried again, “If you’re scared about what we might hear or learn today, you know that’s normal, don’t you? It’s okay to be afraid of things that are outside your control,” he said.

Dag bit his lip. He hadn’t actually been thinking about that, but now that Kai had brought it up, all his thoughts of Bellezza and his Maestro and Jenny faded from his mind. During the past two years, he had tried to convince himself that he had fully accepted the cancer, that he was fine with the possibility of probably not even living to see his twenty-first birthday. And even if he knew that his nightly visits to Bellezza did nothing to help cure his sickness, it hadn’t stopped a part of him from hoping that maybe things would get better for him.

Now however, he felt all his old fears and insecurities creep back in. He clasped his hands together and nodded, eyes focused on a small indeterminate stain on the hospital floor. Even as he felt Kai place a comforting hand on his shoulder, he still kept his eyes down.

“Thank you,” Dag said softly, “for coming with me today.”

“No problem, bud.”

***

At the dungeons of the palazzo, Guido Parola was ready to confess everything. Even when he had his Merlino blade pressed to the throat of the duchessa, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill her. He couldn’t betray his city like that. But he had attempted it, had accepted the job, and to him, that was treachery enough. Guido was ready to tell all, and after that, to be executed for his crime.

And so he was confused when he had been brought fresh beddings, ample food, as well as a basin of fresh warm water to wash himself. The following morning, when he saw the Duchessa herself enter his prison cell, he flung himself at her feet.

“Your Grace!” he cried, face still firmly planted on the stone floor, “please forgive my treachery!”

Behind her mask, Elsa’s eyes softened. “Do get up…” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. From the bars of the dungeon, two ladies-in-waiting carried in a simple wooden stool for Elsa to sit on. Once she was comfortable, she motioned for Guido to take a seat on his cot.

“What is your name, assassin?” Elsa asked. In truth, Gerda had tried her hardest to talk her out of this particular meeting, but if there was one thing Elsa refused to give up, it was the knowledge that she had the loyalty of her people. If they all believed in her, then she was willing to spare a little belief for them too.

Across from her, the young man stammered for a bit, hands clasped together and eyes down, almost as if he was praying for penitence. “Guido Parola, your Grace.”

“Tell me Guido,” Elsa said, “have I failed so much as your Duchessa that you would seek to assassinate me on the feast of our Maddalena?”

Once again, Guido fell to his knees. “No your Grace, you are the best Duchessa Bellezza has ever known! The kindest and most just! My father has been fortunate enough to live through the reign of three Duchessas before you and even he states that you outrank them all. What I did last night, I did because I had no other choice.”

Elsa felt her eyebrow quirk up behind her mask. “Why?” she asked.

“My family is in dire need, your Grace. My father is very ill and my brother foolishly squandered our family’s money. I desperately needed the money and saw no other way, and once I had accepted I was told that if I failed my family would pay the price” Guido said.

“Accepted…from whom?” Elsa asked. It didn’t escape her notice the way Guido froze.

“I desperately wish to tell you, your Grace, but know that it isn’t disloyalty or disobedience that makes me hesitate, but fear for my family, and what this person might do to them if they found out that I had told you.” Guido said, the shame and conflict in his voice was only too apparent.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” Elsa said.

Guido dared to glance up, “wh-what?” he asked.

Elsa stood up, “last night I told you, the Goddess may not forgive you for your actions, but know that your Duchessa does. Do you know why I said this?” Guido shook his head. “I said this because I do forgive you Guido,” Elsa said, as kindly as she could. “As your Duchessa, I know it would only take an act of true desperation for one of my own people to betray me,” she said.

She reached out a hand to lay gently on Guido’s shoulder, “And as your Duchessa you can trust that my interest is not only in the crime, but in the truth. So, for your family and your honor, tell me the truth Guido. Who threatened your family? Who told you to assassinate me?”

“It was the Ambassador, your Grace. Hans di Meridione.”

Elsa didn’t bother hiding the small smile at the confirmation of all her suspicions. “Know this Guido Parola, for your crime I sentence you to the eternal servitude of your Duchessa. You will remain here under my protection, where you will learn to be a mandolier and become my personal bodyguard. By witness of the Goddess, I hold you to this position.”

Guido looked up at her, tears in his eyes. Elsa smiled, “But for your honesty, I will reward you by having the Palazzo dottore visit your father. Once you begin your servitude, you will also receive a monthly stipend, enough to help your family. For the time being, I’ll have them moved to my Ducal estate in Padavia, where I can guarantee their safety from the di Meridiones.”

“Thank you, Your Grace!” Guido broke into tears, still on his knees in front of the Duchessa. He had been offered a new chance at life, and he was not about to squander it this time, “I am undeserving of your infinite generosity and kindness. I swear on my life and my father’s life that I won’t fail you.”

“I only ask this,” Elsa said, “Tell no one about what we’ve discussed here today, not even your family. I will let you know when you can share this story, and together you can help me ensure that Hans di Meridione is brought to justice.”

***

Hans was almost certain that Guido Parola had cheated him off his silver. The loss of the silver didn’t bother him so much, he had much more where that came from, it was the betrayal that really bothered him. The young assassin had simply disappeared, vanished into the night after the Maddelena feast, and yet the Duchessa was still alive. Not only was she still alive, but she made him look like a fool.

Now, with an assassin that knew too much out loose somewhere in Talia, he couldn’t help but worry that word of his plot might reach the wrong ears. In the end, he decided to consult with Enrico, the spy who had recommended the failed assassin to him in the first place.

Personally, Enrico thought that Hans was a fool for letting the plot fail so easily. Enrico could have easily even pulled off killing the Duchessa himself. For the right price, of course.

“This is all your fault!” Hans growled, glaring at Enrico from across the table at one of the taverns in the outskirts of the city. “Your assassin failed to do his job and now we have a witness running around with my silver, getting drunk and spilling Goddess knows what to random strangers!”

Enrico resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was typical that a noble like Hans di Meridione would worry about his reputation and his status first. In Enrico’s line of work, he knew the cowards and weaklings from the true men, and Hans certainly wasn’t one of them.

“You know,” Enrico began, “there is another way to get to the Duchessa, your Excellency.”

Hans scoffed, taking a sip of his ale, “oh really?”

“Indeed,” Enrico said, “You will recall some weeks ago I mentioned Signor Alarik’s young apprentice?”

Hans waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, the outsider who was here on the Forbidden Day,” he said, already losing interest. “Don’t tell me that disobedient brats are the trump card you have up your sleeve?.”

“Never underestimate the bond between a Maestro and his apprentice, your Grace!” Enrico said, feigning concern. “After all, I’m sure if something were to happen to the boy, Signor Alarik would do anything to make sure he stayed safe, perhaps even seek a request from the Duchessa herself?

Hans lowered his goblet, “what concern would the Duchessa have over some trite boy?”

Enrico slowly leaned forward, teeth gleaming as he grinned, “Well, I’m sure it’s no secret how…fond of Signor Alarik the Duchessa is?”

At that, Hans rolled his eyes. Certainly he knew that the Duchessa and the senator were close, as Signor Alarik always kept an annoyingly close eye on her, and had been doing so for years. “Get to the point, Enrico, I’m not here for your trivial gossip.”

“Think about it. The senator is very fond of the boy. And the Duchessa is very fond of the senator,” Enrico continued, trying to get Hans to connect the dots. “Don’t you think that the Duchessa would be upset if anything were to happen to her senator’s boy as well?”

“Like what?” Hans asked.

Enrico sighed. “The death penalty,” Enrico replied. “For being an outsider in Bellezza during The Forbidden Day. Him and that girl he was with!”

“What does the girl have to do with it?” Hans said, leaning a bit closer now, curiosity piqued.

Enrico’s smile only grew wider. “If there’s one thing I pride myself off, it’s knowing all the seedy and secretive things that go on in Bellezza. Not a single spy can trail their target without my knowing so, and I happen to have it on good authority that our very own Duchessa employed a spy herself, to trail a certain young lady under a false name. Are you seeing the pattern here Your Grace?”

Hans blinked. “No.”

“The girl took on a fake name so she wouldn’t be caught on Bellezza during the Forbidden Day. The Duchessa is interested in the girl. The girl was with the boy. The boy is apprenticed to Signor Alarik, who is a favorite senator of the Duchessa.” Enrico spat out. At this point, he wasn’t surprised that Hans was the only one left of his brothers who didn’t have his own city-state to rule.

“Well–yes but. This is all hearsay at this point. We have no real proof of them being outsiders,” Hans huffed.

Enrico tapped the side of his nose. “Ah, but we do, Your Excellency. I have a witness who overheard them on The Forbidden Day. Once we can prove they’re not from Bellezza, they won’t live to see the next sunrise.”

“So you’re thinking I could blackmail the Duchessa into relinquishing the city to me?” Hans stared at the contents of his goblet, deep in thought. “What makes you so sure these children hold so much weight?”

Enrico leaned back in his seat, polishing off his own drink and motioning the bar maid for a refill. “Call it a spy’s intuition.”

*~*


	17. Chapter 16

Antonio was loathe to leave his beloved bakery, especially if it meant leaving his children in charge behind the counter, but Enrico had told him that he would make the trip worthwhile. The tavern wasn’t so crowded, and so Antonio didn’t find it hard to locate Enrico. Enrico still had on his usual green cloak, hood pulled over his eyes.

“Antonio!” Enrico cried out, gesturing at the chair in front of him. “Sit, sit! Join me for a drink, will you?”

The truth was, there was something about Enrico that had always unnerved Antonio. There was an air of veiled menace to the man that sometimes had him on edge. However, there had been no real reason to doubt him in the past and despite all things, he was a well-appreciated patron of the bakery. Plus, Antonio wasn’t one to turn down a free goblet of wine. Soon enough, they had polished off a bottle of wine, when Antonio asked, “so, why did you ask me to come?”

Enrico leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You remember what we had discussed earlier? Of the boy and the girl who frequent your establishment? The outsiders to the city on The Forbidden Day?”

Antonio raised his brow. “Yes.” He didn’t like where this was going. Those two were soon becoming regular customers, and they were always perfectly polite. Antonio wasn’t very traditional, he couldn’t care less if they were outsiders to the city, as long as they paid and cleaned up after themselves. But he was also a man of the law.

“You would be willing to testify, wouldn’t you, Antonio?” Enrico asked.

“L-look, Enrico, I’m not looking for any trouble.” Antonio stammered. He felt himself sober up almost immediately.

“That’s precisely why I’m asking this of you, Antonio!” Enrico said, eyes widening. “We both know that non-Bellezzans aren’t permitted in the city after the Marriage. Our beloved Duchessa herself decreed so!”

Antonio fidgeted in his seat. “Yes,” he said slowly.

“And I’m sure you’re aware, harboring fugitives is just as bad as committing the crime itself.” Enrico continued, casually examining his fingertips. “Criminals are executed for severe crimes in Bellezza, and I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen to the owner of my favorite bakery.”

Antonio gulped. “Especially if the City Watch were to hear of things,” Enrico said, casting another glance at Antonio, his smile purely sinister now. With a long sigh, Antonio bowed his head, and offered a silent prayer to the Goddess that the two youngsters would be spared a harsh punishment. 

“So Antonio,” Enrico said, offering him a final gobletful of wine, “I ask again, you would be willing to testify wouldn’t you?”

“Of course Enrico, just as any law-abiding citizen would.”

***

Jenny was sitting in the dining room, having dinner with her Zia Beata, when they both heard a knock on the door. Zia Beata went up from the table to answer it, but as she approached the door, the knocking became harder and more insistent.

“Open up!” cried the voice on the other side of the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Zia Beata called out cheerfully, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders. Once the door opened, a gruff looking guard let himself in, roughly elbowing her aside.

“We have a warrant for the arrest for one Johanna Maria, on the charge of treason.”

Zia Beata’s eyes widened, but she stood her ground, despite the guard towering over her slight frame. “My niece is not yet even sixteen, what could she possibly have done, signor?” 

“She defied one of the oldest laws of the city,” he said, pointing to Jenny. “A non Bellezzan, in the city on The Forbidden Day!”

Zia Beata tried another approach. “There must be some mistake! She is simply a returning citizen, back from her travels! Sit signor, sit! Let us explain. May I offer you some wine?” Zia Beata asked, already attempting to lead him to the dining room.

The guard brushed her off gruffly. “Nice try. But there was a witness who overheard her talking to a boy, an outsider as well! Two brats in the city on The Forbidden Day!”

Jenny felt all her blood turn cold. Even though her brain told her to run, it felt as if her entire body couldn’t move out of fear. She had known this was a possibility, that she would be caught and punished for being in Bellezza illegally. Still, her mind had continued to hope that things might turn out okay, that her days spent in the Hall of Records would finally turn up the single name she needed. The one that would lead her to her mother. 

Now it was all for naught, and she felt like crying. Her Zia Beata’s voice snapped her back to the present. 

“And I’m telling you this is a mistake!” Zia Beata insisted, her voice growing firmer now. “And I’ll not let any of you lay a single hand on my niece unless you can show me concrete evidence that isn’t hearsay from some passerby!”

The guard’s frown deepened, until it seemed like it would be permanently etched on his face. From where she was standing, rooted in fear, Jenny saw his hand twitch slightly near the sheath at his side. No, she couldn’t let her Zia be hurt because of her. That was what spurned her into action.

“I’m here!” she called out, loud and clear, so that all eyes on the room turned to her.

“Johanna don’t–”

“It’s okay Zia,” Jenny said, trying to project a calm that she couldn’t feel. “I’ll go.”

***

Alarik had been working late into the night, and had finally fallen asleep at the marble counter of his laboratory, when his slumber was interrupted by a loud pounding at the door.

“Open up! In the name of the Bellezza City Watch!”

Alarik got up and quickly opened the door before it could be kicked down. “Evening, signor,” Alarik said mildly.

“There will be no pleasantries Senator,” the guard said. “Where is he?”

Alarik felt his stomach turn to lead, “Where is who?”

“Now is not the time for games, Senator,” the guard said, elbowing him aside and entering the lab, “we have a warrant for the arrest of the boy, your apprentice! Now, where is he?”

Alarik narrowed his eyes. “Show me the warrant.” The guard handed him the piece of vellum, and Alarik’s breath hitched in his throat when he read the words “Giornata Vietata”, although his face remained impassive. “My apprentice didn’t arrive today,” Alarik said truthfully, “We have no lessons scheduled you see.”

“Well in that case, I’ll wait right here until he arrives tomorrow morning,” the guard said.

Alarik scoffed, “You can’t wait here.”

The guard lifted an eyebrow, hand casually going to his sword, “With all due respect Senator, this is a matter for the City Watch. You know as well as I that non-Bellezzans aren’t allowed to set foot in Bellezza unless it’s during the Marriage of the Se. If your apprentice is an outsider then he will be arrested and put to trial.”

“I’d like to see that proven indeed,” Alarik said, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

The guard scowled. “Senator, as part of the Ducal Senate you are automatically granted clemency, but I won’t hesitate to use force if necessary.”

Alarik then got his cloak and made a move for the door. “In that case, I shall be taking my leave, then,” Alarik said. “Enjoy waiting.” As he shut the door, he grabbed the lock from the pocket of his trousers and secured it on the lab’s door, effectively locking the guard inside.

With a deep sigh, Alarik made for the Palazzo, suddenly grateful that Elsa had kept his rooms there even after all these years.

***

“So,” Dr. Andersen said once Dag and Kai were seated on the chairs in his spacious clinic, “All the general tests seem fine, just like they did the last time this happened, but the bloodwork might take some more time.”

“Does that mean I can go home first?” Dag asked, already wanting to get back to his notebook talisman, and Bellezza. He had opted not to stravagate back the previous evening simply because he didn’t want to look or feel tired for the doctor’s appointment, just in case Dr. Andersen might prescribe something that would interfere with his stravagations.

Unfortunately, that was not the case at all.

Dr. Andersen patted him on the head. “Not quite, young man,” he said kindly. “Since this is the second time this has happened, I’ve secured an evening for you here in our sleep lab. We’ll be able to monitor your sleep patterns better and hopefully that will clue us in as to why you’ve been harder to wake recently.”

Dag’s eyes widened and he looked to Kai. His houseparent stared back at him apologetically, “I think this is for the best,” Kai said, placing a hand on Dag’s shoulder. “Please Dag, for my own peace of mind.”

“Dr. Andersen I really don’t–”

“It’s okay, young man. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Dr. Andersen said with a practiced smile, “The sleep lab isn’t anything like your chemo sessions. It’ll be a bedroom, much like your own at the orphanage, except this one has a machine near your bed. We’ll be placing some wires around your head, no needles whatsoever, so we can monitor your brain activity while you sleep. Nothing more.”

“Uhm, would it help if I stayed here with him?” Kai said, “Dag gets very uneasy inside hospitals and he might not be able to fall asleep very well in a new environment.”

Dr Andersen nodded, “That’s not a problem at all. Dag, will you be okay?”

Dag sighed, and hoped that his Maestro and Jenny wouldn’t be too worried at his prolonged absence for at least one more day. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

***

The door to the Duchess’s dungeons swung open, and Jenny was led inside. Jenny waited until the door was closed behind her, and once she heard the guard’s footsteps fading away, she burst into tears.

*~*


	18. Chapter 17

When Giuliana had asked her friends where to find the best lacemaker for a wedding dress, they all told her the same thing: find the lacemaker Neta, the one who lives in the only white house in Burlesca. Though Neta was one of the younger lacemakers, her handiwork was the finest in the islands, and she came from a long line of lacemakers, as her own late grandmother Iduna had even made lace for clients such as the previous Duchessa herself.

Upon entering the cottage, Giuliana knew that the stories and praises were true. Right outside the cottage was a loom with a work-in-progress that looked like it was meant for the gown of a Principessa. Inside the cottage were rolls and rolls of finely made lace, each more intricate than the last.

“Ooooooh, what about this one?” Giuliana asked, holding up a swatch of lace and inspecting it closely. Truthfully, she didn’t know exactly what she wanted, she just knew that she wanted it to look extravagant, and to be the envy of all of the other girls.

“That’s a lovely one, yes” Neta said, smiling at her. “You know, lace has a language of its own.”

“That’s nice,” Giuliana said absentmindedly. “Now, normally I can’t quite afford your rate, but I’ve recently come across some money, you see, and well, only lace from the finest lacemaker in the islands will do!” She sat down on a nearby chair, pouting a little bit. “Although, my fiance doesn’t seem to be so excited for the wedding, he’s always in town meeting with the Di Meridione ambassador.”

“Oh?” Neta said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes yes, but of course, I can’t say much,” Giuliana said. “The nature of his work is very secret and very important.”

“Of course,” Neta said, pulling out a long strip of paper. “Now, how about we take some measurements?”

“Oh yes!” Giuliana said, flitting over to where Neta was seated and spreading her arms out. “I was imagining it could be rather tight around the bodice, with the lace detailing nearer the chest and flowing out unto the skirt. Oh, and pearls too! Along the sleeves and dotted along the train of the dress.”

“Sounds like you already have a dress in mind.” Neta said calmly, unrolling her measuring ribbon and slowly taking measurements around Giuliana’s waist and along her arms. “I imagine this will be quite to your fiance’s taste then?”

“Well this isn’t really in his realm of interest,” Giuliana said, watching Neta as she measured from her waist to toes, “My Enrico’s always busy. He’s quite smart you know!”

“Oh I’m sure of it. He managed to snag such a charming lady such as yourself after all,” Neta said kindly, still focused entirely on her work.

Above her, Giuliana blushed deeply. “Thank you for saying so. I’m sure once this whole business with the di Meridione ambassador is finished he’ll be more excited to plan the wedding with me. He says he simply can’t be distracted from his work right now. Why just last week he told me he helped the ambassador uncover two traitors to the state!”

“Really now?” Neta finished her measurements on the floor and stood up to measure Giuliana’s bosom and her arms.

“Mmhmm, they have so many plans and Enrico says he’ll be paid handsomely by the ambassador once this is all over so the two of us shall live in comfort for the rest of our days!”

“I’m pleased that the Goddess has shown you and your fiance much fortune,” Neta chanced a glance at her before writing all the measurements down and then turning to face Giuliana with a bright smile on her face. “Now, which lace did you say was to your fancy again?”

***

Alarik made his way to the Palazzo as quickly as he could, and then moved towards the Duchessa’s private apartments.

The guards posted outside stopped him and asked “what business do you have with the Duchessa at this hour, Senator?”

“Please tell Her Grace that it’s an emergency!” he said, breathing heavily from his run.

“Let him in,” came Elsa’s voice from inside.

With that, the guards allowed Alarik inside the Duchessa’s apartments, closing the door behind him. Alarik saw that Elsa had been lounging on the chaise, reading a book. She put down her book when she caught sight of him, greeting him with a smile. Alarik very nearly forgot what he had come there for, before he shook his head, the pressing matter at hand.

“Elsa, you know I never come to you for help with personal matters, but please believe me when I say that this is a matter of life and death,” Alarik said.

Her face grew serious. “What is it?” she asked.

“You know the boy Dag, my apprentice?”

“How could I forget?” Elsa said, “the young man who saved my life.”

Alarik closed his eyes, taking a breath. “I need to ask you to return him the favor.” He began to pace the floor in front of Elsa. “My fault, my fault, this is all my fault, I should have warned him-”

“Alarik,” Elsa said, effectively bringing him back to earth. “What’s going on?”

“Did you sign a warrant for the arrest of someone here in the city on the Giornata Vietata?” he asked, voice strained.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Well, yes, but you know as well as I that those are always false sightings. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Alarik made himself stop pacing and looked her in the eye. “Not this time it isn’t. You didn’t see who the order was for?”

“Well, no,” Elsa said. “As I said, it’s always a false sighting, there hasn’t been a case of someone violating that law in my lifetime as well as yours. I get those false sightings nearly every week, I simply note the offense and sign for it.”

“Elsa,” Alarik said carefully, “you don’t understand. The warrant for the arrest…it was for Dag.”

All color drained from Elsa’s already pale face, and she put a hand to her heart.

“And you know as well as I that he is not of the earth we know, let alone Bellezza.”

“Where is he now? Was he arrested?”

“Luckily he’s in his home world, he has not stravagated since the night of the Feast of the Maddalena. So while he’s there, he’s safe.”

“Wait,” Elsa said, eyes growing wide. “I signed two warrants recently. And the commander of the watch said that the other was for a–”

It felt like a lead weight had been dropped into Elsa’s stomach. Before she could help it, the floor she was standing on was turning to ice, the temperature in the room had already dropped by several degrees and from where he was standing, she could see Alarik trying to repress a shiver.

“Elsa? Elsa, what’s wrong?” Alarik said, approaching her. His hands seemed to hesitate for a moment before he thought better of it and brought them up to grasp at her arms, rubbing calming circles with his thumbs. Just like he used to before–

“How does he know her?” Elsa cried out, pulling away and pacing the room.

“What? Who?”

“Her!” Elsa cried, “The day I saw you and Dag from my window, you were with Beata and–and a girl! How does your apprentice know her?”

“They’re friends, she was the first person he met when–” Alarik’s eyes widened. “You said you signed two warrants?”

Elsa nodded, eyes shut tight as she fought for control before she froze the whole Palazzo over. “There’s something you’re not telling me Elsa,” Alarik said, approaching her again. “What’s wrong?”

“The girl.” Elsa whispered.

“What about her? Have they already taken her? I have to get back to Beata, and quickly.” Alarik said, already going up to get his cloak.

“Wait!” Elsa walked toward him, clasping her hands before her, “Alarik…you don’t understand…she’s not just any girl.”

Alarik regarded her kindly, “you’re right, of course she’s not, she is a good friend to Dag.”

Elsa bit her lip to keep it from trembling, the walls and windows nearest them were covered in ice now. Elsa was glad it was nighttime or someone outside might have thought it strange why the eastern windows of the Palazzo were frosted over. “No, you don’t…you don’t understand…Alarik, she’s….she’s mine.”

Alarik’s cloak fluttered to the floor as he felt his blood run cold. Elsa was looking at her feet, not meeting his eyes. He thought back to Jenny and all the times he’d seen her. She was older than Dag, for sure, by a few years at least. Which must have meant that–

It felt as if something soft and vulnerable inside him had been frozen over. Humorlessly, he entertained the notion that it could have been because of Elsa’s ice powers. But he knew what it really was.

It wasn’t as if he entertained any notions about Elsa’s private business after he had left all those years ago, but still a part of him had hoped, believed, that she would have remained true.

Now faced with the painful truth, he tried to force his rational side to take over. The logical taking dominance over the emotional lest his heartache became too much for him to bear. He had left and that was no one else’s fault except his, if he must face the consequences then he would do so maturely, and rationally.

Still, the hard weight in his chest felt a lot like betrayal and jealousy and there was nothing he could do to ignore it.

“I see.” His tone came out more clipped and brusque than he intended. “I suppose we must act quickly then, Your Grace, for the sake of my apprentice and–”

By the Goddess, he couldn’t even say the word! He cursed himself twice, clenching his hand into a fist before picking up his cloak and turning to leave. “Please excuse me, I shall see to Beata.”

“Alarik, please stay, let me explain!” she said, voice shaking.

“Are you asking me, or ordering me, Your Grace?” Alarik asked, barely even turning to look at her. Just this once, he told himself. Just this once he would allow himself this moment of bitterness. Honestly, he didn’t want to hear her excuses. He wanted to see her tears even less. As he left her chambers, the temperature had dropped even further.

He shut the door quickly, before the guards could chance a glance inside.

***

So far, Jenny had been treated quite kindly by the guards, but had not been allowed any visitors. Everything was uncertain at this point. Had Dag been arrested too? She had kept an ear out for signs of anyone else coming in, but so far, no one. And what was to happen to her? No one in living memory had ever defied the Giornata Vietata.

The worst part was, Jenny knew she was guilty. She knew exactly what she was doing when she defied the Forbidden Day, and yet she made the trip to Bellezza anyway.

She began to wonder if the search for her mother was actually worth it, if the whole thing was for naught. She has no closer to finding her mother than she was when she started, and now she would never know. She kicked a nearby footstool, blinking back tears.

Jenny pulled out the worn sheet of parchment from her pocket. Though the guards checked her for any weapons, they had allowed her to keep her letter. And even if they hadn’t allowed it, she’d be damned if she’d ever let them take it away from her.

There wasn’t much light in the Palazzo dungeons save for the torches that flickered in the hallways outside her cell, but it was a full moon tonight, so she walked over to the window and held the letter up until the cool glow of the moonlight just barely illuminated it. She read the letter again, although she had long ago committed each word to memory.  
 _  
Dear Anna,_

_Her name is Johanna Maria._

_Until I can get it under control, I am entrusting her to you. It’s not safe for her here in Bellezza. I swear to you, and to her, when it is safe, we will be together again. All of us._

_You are the only person in this world whom I would trust to take care of her._

_I know you will love her with all your heart. Your love could hold up the world. And she is my whole world._

_Love,  
E.A.  
_  
“It’s not safe here in Bellezza?” Jenny wondered. Bellezza always seemed like such a perfect city to Jenny, and she wondered what dangers could the beautiful city probably hold.

Jenny startled when she heard the opening of her cell door, and the swishing of skirts. Her eyes widened when she saw the Duchessa herself letting herself inside. Jenny turned away from the window quickly, but before she could sink into a deep curtsey, the Duchessa took her into her arms and embraced her tight.


	19. Chapter 18

Hans di Meridione was _furious_. His plan had failed yet again. The way he saw it, the arrest of only the girl wasn’t important enough to merit the Duchessa’s concern. Only the weaker half of his plan had actually worked. And the boy himself had seemed to disappear into thin air! Hans worried that Alarik knew where the boy was, and had warned him early.

A flicker of a memory of an earlier conversation with Enrico tickled at the back of his mind. Of where the boy was from if not Bellezza. Hans had long overheard his older brothers speculating about the existence of travelers from other worlds. Some form of witchcraft that allowed men to travel through the fabric of space and time.

The notion of it had always seemed too fantastical for him to believe, but now, in secret, he entertained the possibility of it. It was plain that Enrico knew more than he let on, if that was so, then this blunder was on his hands. 

Hans turned to glare at the spy.

“Find the boy!” Hans shouted at Enrico. “By any means necessary! But I need him alive!”

Enrico smirked, looking like he was about to reply another snarky retort, but Hans was sick and tired of it. 

“Find him,” Hans continued, jabbing a finger at Enrico’s chest, “or not only will I take back every ounce of silver I’ve paid you thus far, but you can be I’ll see to it that your pretty little Signorina wont even get a chance to walk down the aisle.”

***

Jenny stiffened when the Duchessa hugged her. It’s not as if she was averse to hugs, quite the opposite, her family hugged her all the time, but to be hugged by a complete stranger, let alone the ruler of the city, was something completely different.

“Ummm…are you alright, Your Grace?” she asked.

“What?” the Duchessa said, seeming to come to her senses. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, releasing her.

The Duchessa retreated to the farthest corner of the cell, hugging her arms to herself and pacing, taking deep breaths. From where she was standing, Jenny was at a loss. The whole evening had been stressful thus far and it seemed as if it wasn’t over.

She was about to open her mouth and humbly ask the Duchessa why she would visit a prisoner when– 

“You’ve probably wondered all your life while your mother left you when you were a baby.”

Jenny felt herself bristling. From across the space, the Duchessa was looking at her head on, piercing blue eyes staring at her through the elegant mask on her face. While it was true, she didn’t see how it was any of the Duchessa’s business. “Your Grace I– How do you know about that?”

The Duchessa bit at her lip, finally averting her gaze and looking anywhere but at her. Jenny wondered if it was just her nerves or the tension between them, but she almost swore the temperature in her cell dropped by a few degrees.

“Because I was present at your birth,” the Duchessa said at last, not meeting her eyes.

“I don’t understand, Your Grace. Were you my mother’s midwife?” Jenny asked, finding it hard to imagine the elegant Duchessa as a midwife.

The silence dragged on and for a few moments Jenny wondered if the Duchessa would leave it at that. There were a few moments when she caught the Duchessa’s eyes darting to the bars of her cell. On her part, Jenny clenched her fists and waited patiently. 

The Palazzo’s dungeons was the last place she expected to find any answers about who her real mother was. But perhaps this was the Goddess’ way.

She waited.

After an eternity measured in heartbeats, the Duchessa finally brought her eyes to Jenny, and Jenny was surprised to see how wide and almost frightened they looked. “No…I’m…I’m your _mother_.”

The silence after that statement was more deafening than the one that preceded it. She must have misheard, she must have, because there’s no way that this woman before her could be her mother. All at once her view of the room shifted, and Jenny realized only belatedly that it was because her knees had buckled under the weight of it all, leaving her sitting, helpless, on the small cot that served as her bed. 

Before Jenny even started her search for her mother, she already wondered what her mother was like. When she was younger, she imagined a warm, loving woman with sun-kissed skin and hair that looked like hers. But she never imagined…the woman standing in front of her, wringing her gloved hands, an expectant look in her eyes. So very pale and distant and nothing like the figure of her daydreams. 

However, right now, she looked nothing like the regal and elegant figure that Jenny knew the Duchessa to be. She just looked like a scared woman.

Jenny found herself shivering, the room’s temperature seemed to have dropped all the way now, although it seemed to hardly bother the Duchessa at all. Perhaps it was all in her mind. Perhaps it was her body reacting to the shock of such a confession. “What?” was all Jenny managed to say.

Across from her The Duchessa also seemed at a loss, from her lower vantage point it was hard to tell with the mask in the way. However, she could see the Duchessa clenching and unclenching her fists. A quirk, Jenny realized, she herself had. It felt like her head was spinning. She looked away from the woman in front of her. Jenny stared at her own hand.

“I– I know that this must be a lot to take in.” The Duchessa said, wringing her hands before her. Her many skirts shifted slightly, as if she had tried to take a step forward but thought better of it. “And–I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me. B-but it’s true and I– I needed you to know.”

Jenny was still staring at her hands. “Why?” She whispered, she noticed a puff of steam from her mouth when the word escaped her. She shivered again but steeled herself and asked louder, “Why? Why didn’t you want me? Why are you–” so unlike the mother of my fantasies, is what she wanted to say, but she brushed that thought aside, “Why are you only telling me now?” 

The Duchessa heaved a sigh, hugging her arms to herself. “I’m sorry. I–” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t want it to be this way. To tell you like this.” The Duchessa said, “I thought that by the time you found out I would be ready, things would be better, but…recent events have changed those plans.”

Jenny’s hand flew to the pocket of her dress, where the well-worn letter stayed safe and folded. “You wrote a letter to my Zia.”

“Yes, Anna! She’s my–” The Duchessa hesitated, and then cleared her throat. “She’s the only person I could trust you with.”

Jenny bit back a scowl, more secrets. “Yes, you said as much in your letter.”

“I know you have a lot of questions.”

“I do.” Jenny said, then winced at the brusque tone her voice had taken, she tried again, “I do, Your Grace.”

The Duchessa nodded. “As you must know, being Duchessa means that my position grants me a lot of enemies in other city states.” The Duchessa seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “When I found out I was having you, it was the happiest and saddest day of my life.” A hitch in her breath. Jenny granted her the courtesy of pretending not to hear it.

“It was a time when my enemies were plotting against me and other…factors made me quite vulnerable. If they had known about you, it would have been used against me, and you might have been taken away by cruel people. I couldn’t let that happen!”

The Duchessa’s eyes went wide at the thought, even in the darkness of her cell, Jenny could see the slight hysteria in them. That at least, was enough to let her believe the story.

“For you, and for the people I cared about, I had to send you away. To your Zia, so you could be safe. I had hoped that those problems, and those enemies, they would have been resolved by now. But they aren’t and now you’ve been caught up in it and it’s all my fault.”

This wasn’t the reunion Jenny had fantasized about. For one, it felt as if she had more questions now than she did before. Jenny wondered how much The Duchessa–that is–her mother was allowed to tell her. 

“When can i know the truth?” Jenny asked instead.

“When you’re–” The Duchessa paused and glanced apologetically at Jenny. “When I’m ready.” She amended. “When things are better.”

“But when will that be?” This time, Jenny couldn’t help her desperate tone, “Please, all my life all I wanted were answers and now it feels like I just have more questions.”

Finally, The Duchessa bridged the gap between them and laid a gloved hand on Jenny’s shoulder. The cell felt less cold now. “I understand,” she said, “and I’m sorry. But right now, you’re safer not knowing everything. Please believe me when I say I’m doing everything in my power to make things right.”

It wasn’t the reply she wanted, but Jenny understood that it was needed. She nodded slowly, looking up at the Duchessa. 

“I believe you. Your Grace.”

She didn’t miss the flash of sadness that crossed through the Duchessa’s eyes before it was replaced with pure determination.

The Duchessa stepped away, cleared her throat and all of a sudden the vulnerable woman was gone. The woman in front of her now was simply the ruler of Bellezza. The sudden shift sent a cold chill down Jenny’s spine. 

“I’ve arranged for you to be moved to a better cell in the morning, better accommodations, and with a little more privacy so you can bathe and change. Some spare clothes will be brought for you as well.”

Jenny looked away and nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

She heard more than saw the Duchessa starting to leave, the loud swishing of her skirts and the tapping of her shoes against the stone floors echoing throughout the dungeons.

“What’s my father like?” Jenny asked, before she could lose her nerve.

The Duchessa turned around and paused for a long moment. “He’s…the kindest man I know,” she finally said. “And I’m afraid that I don’t deserve his kindness.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny said.

The Duchessa’s gloved hand gripped the bars of the cell very tightly. “Before you were born, I broke his heart and despite that he has shown me nothing but kindness since. Tonight, I broke his heart again, and now I fear the damage is too irreparable.”

Jenny wished she understood the cryptic messages the Duchessa was giving her. She could only hope that things would make more sense later on.

“Why did you break his heart?” Jenny asked softly, hugging her knees to herself and keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

“Because…” The Duchessa said, her voice hitching again. “Because I finally told him that you were my daughter, and I’m sure like you, the secrecy of it all has him feeling betrayed and I can’t blame him or you. All of this is my fault, which is why I’m trying to make it right. I have to make it right.”

The last part was said so softly that Jenny wondered if she was meant to hear it.

Before the Duchessa could close the cell door behind her, Jenny said, “Thank you for telling me.” She looked up this time to catch the small smile the Duchessa gave her just as the door was closed.

***

“I can’t believe I lost her!” Beata cried out as she paced the floor of the dining room. “Anna trusted me with her, and I LOST her!”

“You didn’t lose her,” Alarik said, trying to calm her down, “it’s not your fault.”

Beata continued on with her pacing. “I tried to talk the guards out of it, Alarik, I really did!” she said morosely. 

“I know,” Alarik said. He had not yet told Beata what Elsa had just told him. He was still trying to process everything himself. A part of him wishes he had stayed when Elsa had begged to let herself explain, but the more prideful part of him didn’t want to hear any excuse she might have. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Beata,” he told her gently.

“What are you talking about, Alarik? Did you miss the part where I said I LOST HER?” Beata was practically pulling her hair out.

Alarik took a deep breath, he sat down on one of Beata’s mismatched chairs. If Elsa was telling the truth, and he knew that she was, then Jenny was in no real danger. The trial that was going to take place soon would prove her innocence, and Jenny would be safe. Dag on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Alarik just hoped that Dag wouldn’t try to stravagate into the city anytime soon. “Jenny was born in Belleza.”

That stopped Beata in her tracks. Her jaw dropped and she turned to Alarik with wide eyes. 

“What? How do you know that for certain?” Beata asked.

Alarik sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just…I just know.”

“Well, that’s great! Once the trial reveals that she’s innocent, then they’ll let her go, right?” Beata said, brightening. She suddenly stopped, raising an eyebrow at him, “…Why don’t you look so relieved?” she asked.

Alarik smiled sadly at Beata, “There’s a warrant out for my apprentice as well. I fear I may have put him in terrible danger by becoming his Maestro.”

Beata crossed over to Alarik and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve never seen that topolino happier than when he’s telling Jenny all about the wonderful things you’ve been teaching him. You’re a great Maestro, Beowulf. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Alarik felt something warm tug at his heart. He nodded.

“I will pray to the Goddess for your apprentice.” Beata said. “She will see the purity in his heart and spare him. I know it.”

Alarik wished he shared Beata’s pure devotion, perhaps it would help ease his troubled mind. 

He stayed just long enough for Beata to feed him bread and cheese and wine before he bid his leave and made his way to his quarters in the Palazzo. When he passed his laboratory, he could still hear the pounding of the guard he had trapped inside and allowed himself a small smile.

He should be fine by morning.

***

Thankfully, Hans di Meridione was much less angry the next day. 

Back at the tavern, Enrico still had no news of Dag’s whereabouts. He had asked every one of his associates in his network to keep an eye out for the boy fitting Dag’s description, to no avail. It didn’t help that Hans kept hounding him for more information, and with no information to give, Enrico would receive no silver.

“I’m curious. What do you plan to do once you’ve successfully blackmailed the Duchessa out of her position, signor?” asked Enrico. After all, it’s not as if Hans di Meridione could run himself. Not only was he not a Bellezzan citizen, but only women could run for head of state in Bellezza. 

Hans sneered, “that’s if your blunder hasn’t ruined this plan for us yet. But if you must know, my family has connections all over Talia, including a distant female cousin that was born right here, in this very city.”

Enrico’s eyebrows raised, perhaps the ambassador wasn’t as brainless as he had initially thought.

“If everything goes our way, my brother, the Pope, can simply suggest her as a candidate to the senate. As an ambassador I can endorse her position myself. I’m sure no other potential candidate can have such a glowing recommendation.” Hans leaned back, a smug look on his face as he basked in the brilliance of his own schemes. “When she wins, our family will be right there, pulling the strings, and if a certain ambassador were to propose marriage in the near future, I’m sure it wouldn’t come as too much of a shock.”

Enrico nodded to himself. Personally, he didn’t really care who sat in the Palazzo, so long as there was silver in his pocket at the end of the day. “Then can I say what an honor it is to be speaking to the future Duke Consort of my beloved city.

Hans scowled, “Not unless you do this next part right. Without the boy arrested we have no real leverage against Senator Alarik and the Duchessa. We do this next part my way. No more secret connections or hired thugs. If you want to get paid, you’re doing this next part yourself.”

“Your Lordship,” Enrico said with a final swig from his own goblet, “it would be an honor.”

***

“Oooooh the lace for the dress is coming together so nicely!” Giuliana said as she examined it.

Neta smiled at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I showed my fiance the swatches,” Giuliana continued. “He says they look lovely, but oh he’s so preoccupied with work! He says tomorrow he"ll pay a visit to the Duchessa to offer her a gift so that our wedding might be blessed!”

“Oh?” Neta asked, looking up from her loom. Neta remembered how Giuliana had mentioned her fiance working for Hans di Meridione. And from what little memories Neta had of her life back in Bellezza, she still recalled evenings when her parents would talk about the ambassador and his unkind schemes. She knew that ambassador was never up to any good. But she kept her smile pasted on her face.

“Oh yes!” Giuliana said. “I think it’s just so exciting! Imagine, our wedding blessed by the Duchessa herself! As if the Goddess herself ordained our union!”

Neta nodded. “Indeed.” She, pushing away from the loom that had Giuliana’s pattern, Neta moved to a different one and began to make a special design onto a new piece of lace, making sure it blended well with the flowers and vines. 

“What is that?” Giuliana asked, approaching and watching as Neta’s nimble fingers danced over the loom and the thread, “A different client?”

“Indeed,” Neta replied, not looking up from her work, “I had forgotten to start it last night. But don’t worry, yours is almost complete and should be ready well before your wedding.”

That appeased the young woman. Giuliana smiled and walked over to the loom that had your lace. “I can’t thank you enough! I’m so excited to see how it when it’s done!”

“So do I.” Neta said softly, she willed her fingers to work faster bringing flowers, fruit, and birds come to life beneath her very fingers. “Giuliana, what did you say your fiance’s name was again?”

*~*


	20. Chapter 19

When Jenny had woken up, she had almost believed that the previous night’s events were nothing but a dream. However, she had no sooner sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes when a guard had opened her cell and escorted her to a much nicer space, more like a spare room really. 

It was larger than her first cell, with a door this time instead of bars. The bed to the far side of the wall was similar to the one she had back in their house on Torrone, simple but definitely more comfortable. By the bed was a simple table that contained a single lamp, a box of matches, and a few loose leafs of parchment, a well-used quill, and a small pot of ink that looked to be almost dry. 

Across from the bed, and true to the Duchessa’s word, there was a single panel that covered a modestly sized copper tub. Before she had been locked inside, the guard had informed her that hot water would be brought in within the hour should she wish to take a bath. There was also a stool by the window, where some clothes and a wooden comb were neatly laid out. 

When the hot water had been brought in, Jenny bathed in silence. Later, someone brought a tray of roasted pigeon, some olives, bread and cheese. She ate that in silence too. Once she was cleaned, fed, and wearing the new clothes left behind for her, Jenny lay back on the bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been napping, but the sound of the door being unlocked woke her up. Jenny sat up just in time to see the Duchessa walking into the room.

“Hello.” The Duchessa said, carefully, as if afraid to frighten her.

Jenny rubbed at her eyes and turned to look at the small window of the room, the sunlight streaming in through the glass was still bright, she musn’t have been asleep for very long. “What time is it?” Jenny asked instead, still looking out the window.

“Just past one in the afternoon.” The Duchessa said, primly, “The guard outside told me they meant to serve you lunch, but you were still asleep. I can have food brought in if you–”

“No, thank you. Your Grace.” Jenny said. She looked down at her knees now, fiddling with a loose thread on the skirt of her dress.

The silence was thick and it made Jenny want to tear her hair out. Instead she focused on the loose thread, rolling it between her fingers.

Finally, the Duchessa cleared her throat. “Is–is the new holding cell to your liking?” 

“Is it always going to be like this?” Jenny asked instead, her thumb and forefinger were beginning to feel warm from the number of times she rolled the thread against them. “Me, locked away in here with no answers. You, coming in every now and then for small talk?”

She winced after she spoke. Her Zia always did say her temper would get her in trouble one day. Across from her, the Duchessa had a stunned expression on her face. There was hurt there too, but Jenny didn’t want to dwell on that just now, just in case it made her lose her momentum.

“I told you last night,” The Duchessa said, “I’m doing everything in my power to make things right. To keep you safe, until then, this is the best course for everyone involved.”

Jenny could barely contain the frown that was pulling down the corners of her lips. “I know,” she said, if a bit petulantly. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “I’m sorry Your Grace. I just–I want answers. Please. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I’m here in this cell, because I defied the Giornata Vietata in the hopes of finding answers.”

There was sadness in the Duchessa’s eyes now, evident even though she was wearing another opulent mask. “All I can do is apologize, Jenny. I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you seek just yet. Now I know that you must be feeling very frustrated but–”

“You know nothing about me!” Jenny finally yelled. She hadn’t realized she had stood up from her bed until she felt her knees shaking, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

That made the Duchessa stop, and when Jenny thought this would make her angry, the Duchessa only looked sadder than before.

“Nothing about you?” the Duchessa whispered. “Your Zia wrote to me when you gave your first smile. When you cut your first tooth. Your first word… ‘no’, if my memory is correct.” She was now looking at Jenny intently. “Your Zia wrote to me so often, I knew practically everything about you.”

Jenny crossed her arms, still hesitant to accept this woman, this _stranger_ , as her mother. “But you don’t know me. Letters are just letters,” Jenny said, ignoring the fact that her most treasured possession was, in fact, a letter from the woman in front of her. 

Jenny had thought that once she finally met her mother, everything would fall into place so naturally. Now she was seeing that it wouldn’t come so easy.

“I even had an idea of what you looked like. And Anna wrote to me when your eyes first started turning from blue to green…” the Duchessa said, looking off into the distance. “Like…like your father.”

Jenny uncrossed her arms. She didn’t expect the Duchessa to be the one to mention her father again, so she asked her the question she was now most curious about, before she lost her nerve. “When will you tell me who my father is? Are you ever going to tell me who my father is?” 

The Duchessa sighed deeply. “Until last night, I had never even spoken to your father about your existence.” There was a faraway look of pain in the Duchessa’s eyes, as if she was remembering something.

Jenny sat back down and hugged her knees to her chest, looking up at her. Surely…surely if the Duchessa thought that Jenny’s father wanted her, she would’ve entrusted Jenny to him? Last night, she mentioned breaking her father’s heart when he was told of Jenny’s existence. Was the truth so painful that the Duchessa saw it necessary to keep it from her? 

“When you told him,” Jenny whispered, so softly that she could barely even hear it herself, “was he heartbroken because…he didn’t want me?” 

The Duchessa sighed, and sat down beside Jenny, but otherwise gave Jenny her space. “Believe me Jenny, there is no way that would ever happen,” she said.

“But just say if…” Jenny began.

“No.” she said with finality. “The only reason I didn’t entrust you to him when you were born,” she began, “was because I feared that by doing so, I would be putting you both in danger…I just…I couldn’t risk it…”

Jenny opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again, thinking deeply.

“If you still don’t believe me, when I see it fit to explain everything to him, then I will make sure you’re there as well,” the Duchessa finally said as she stood up to leave. “And then you can hear it from him yourself.”

***

The Mirror Room of the Palazzo was where the Duchessa sometimes listened to the petitions of her people. From the floor to the ceiling were mirrors of every imaginable shape and size. 

A previous Duchessa had designed it in order to confuse and unnerve her less than savory guests who were coming to her for petitions. If they couldn’t tell which Duchessa was the real Duchessa and which was the reflection in the mirror, it gave the Duchessa the upper hand. 

Nowadays, people simply liked to come to the Mirror Room in order to admire its elegant design. There was a time Anna insisted on even hosting a party there. It had taken both of Elsa’s and Kristoff’s combined arguments to explain to her why that would have ultimately ended in disaster.

Ever since she had sent her sister and everyone she had ever cared about away, Elsa rarely used this room. She wasn’t a fan of being alone with just herself, even if the other versions of her were just reflections.

In the here and now, she was overseeing the routine polishing of all the mirrors, a task easily delegated to the head of housekeeping but something she liked to do herself. Rarely were there other reflections inside that room and Elsa took comfort in that as she smiled at one of the young cleaning girls, dutifully polishing a floor-length mirror until it shone like liquid silver.

The work was almost halfway done when Gerda came inside the Mirror Room, walking towards where Elsa sat. “Your Grace, this came in for you, from Burlesca,” she said, presenting her with a small wrapped package.

“Thank you Gerda,” Elsa said, taking the brown paper package and unwrapping it carefully. 

Inside was a beautiful swatch of the finest white lace, and Elsa smiled, as she recognized the handiwork of an Arenvellata lacemaker anywhere. She eyed the designs of flowers, fruits, and birds, when she took a second look, her eyes widened.

She stared at the pattern for a long while, fingers idly stroking at the masterfully crafted vines and flowers. Elsa waved Gerda over, “Please have this made into a dress for me.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“And Gerda?”

The matronly woman looked back at her, waiting.

Elsa smiled, “When the staff are done here, I’d like it prepared for tomorrow. I shall be receiving petitioners here.” 

*~*


	21. Chapter 20

Early the next morning, Jenny woke up to the sound of familiar voices, and her cell door opening.

“Jenny!” cried out her Zia Anna, followed closely by her Zio Krisotff, and Neta closing the door behind her.

Jenny stood up quickly and launched herself into their arms. “Zia! Zio! Neta! What are you doing here? You can’t be in Bellezza right now!” Jenny said.

She craned her neck just in time to catch her Zia eye Zio Kristoff carefully. At the sight, something cold and bitter slithered down Jenny’s spine. It felt like betrayal. The breaths between her Zia’s answer felt longer than they should have. 

“Special circumstances,” Zia Anna finally said. “Are you alright, Jenny? Are they treating you well? Have you been eating?”

Jenny shrugged. “A bit too well, it seems…” she replied, motioning towards the bed and panel that hid the copper tub. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Zia Anna sighed, and Zio Kristoff and Neta had the decency to look guilty. “Look, Jenny, I know you must be feeling…a lot…right now-”

“I can’t believe you never told me my mother is the Duchessa!” Jenny practically shouted, pulling away from them. She suddenly realized that, as relieved as she was to see them, she was also furious at the three of them for keeping this from her.

“Jenny,” Neta spoke up, her voice soft and pleading. Jenny felt her anger waver in the slightest. “If you’ve spoken with–The Duchessa,” at this Neta heaved a sigh, “then surely you know that–”

“That I’m being kept in the dark for my own good, right?” Jenny fired back, not bothering to keep the frustration from her voice now. “That’s all anyone seems willing to tell me!” 

“Don’t you trust us anymore, _passerotta_?” Her Zia said, eyes wide with sadness.

Jenny was taken aback and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Now that was unfair. Her Zia had stopped calling her that pet name when she had insisted, at seven years of age, that she was too old for childish nicknames. Hearing her Zia call her that again, now, unlodged something vulnerable and soft inside her. She suddenly wished for the carefree days of her youth.

“Of-of course I trust you!” Jenny’s voice broke at the last word, and she could already feel the traitorous tears trickling down her face. “So it hurts that you couldn’t–that you don’t trust me either!”

“Look, Jenny,” Her Zio Kristoff said, coming forward and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “When we get you out of here. Once the charges are dropped, then I swear, we’ll tell you everything. But one thing at a time, okay?”

Jenny sat back on her bed, feeling very defeated. She nodded even as she felt both Anna and Kristoff sit on either side of her, wrapping her in a hug. Neta had knelt in front of her and rest her chin on Jenny’s knees, looking up at her fondly.

“We’re your family Jenny,” Neta said, softly, “We just want you safe.”

“That’s what she said too,” Jenny replied, “The Duchessa.”

Zia Anna sighed, and combed her fingers through Jenny’s hair. “She’s your family too, Jenny. You should trust her.”

Jenny bit her lip again. Her hands clenching into fists. “It’s a process.”

Her Zia’s mouth pressed into a grim line, but she nodded, and pressed a kiss to the side of Jenny’s head. “That’s all anyone can ask,

 _passerotta._ ”

Jenny wiped away the last of her tears and managed a watery smirk. “I’m too old for pet names Zia,” she said.

Anna, Kristoff and Neta all laughed. Jenny returned their hugs and heaved a tired sigh. “So how exactly do you plan on having the charges against me dropped?”

“Well.” Her Zia said, “Your mother is working on that.”

***

Later, after her family had left with promises to visit again soon, a maid had entered the room to bring Jenny food, new clothes, and hot water for another bath. She watched the woman do all this and wondered, does she know the secrets about me? Do the guards outside this room know that their prisoner is the Duchessa’s own flesh and blood?

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to her new friend. Ever since her imprisonment, she hadn’t heard any word of the guards imprisoning anyone else for violating the Giornata Vietata, she wonders if that means that he hasn’t been back in Bellezza since the Feast of the Maddalena.

She still wonders, to this day, at how easily she had accepted this strange boy from a different world into her life. It had felt so natural though, Dag practically felt like a part of her own family at this point, and the innate protectiveness within her had been hard to deny. Jenny would hate it if any harm should come to him.

That brought up a whole new fear. The topic of Dag’s illness back in his homeworld rarely came up during their conversations, she had the sense that he would rather not think about it while living his other life in Talia. Still, there were moments when she’d catch him running his thin hands through this hair, as if to check if it was really there on his head, or sometimes he would crane his face toward the warm summer sun and just smile.

He had told her, in limited detail, what it was that ailed him. He had mentioned that someday it would end his life, sooner than he would have liked. That was what saddened Jenny more than anything, the knowledge that his light would be snuffed from the world before it had even gotten the chance to truly grow bright.

_What if he had already–_

Jenny shook her head of those thoughts before they had the chance to fully form. No. Dag is fine. She repeated it like a mantra until the fear and panic died down. He is fine. We will see each other again. 

_He is fine._

***

At the hospital, Dag was beginning to get bored and restless. There was only so much television he could watch. His night at the sleep lab yielded no results, but he could barely sleep, so the Doctor had managed to book him one more night. And if nothing came of it then he could be sent home.

When Kai had asked Dag if Dag wanted him to bring him anything from the orphanage, he had asked for some pencils and paper, so that he could sketch while he wasn’t being observed at the sleep lab. To his surprise, Kai also brought Dag’s marbled notebook.

“Thought you might be able to put this thing to good use,” Kai said, smiling when he saw Dag’s face brighten at the sight of the notebook. “Although it looks like you’ve had plenty of use for it,” Kai said, probably noticing its warped pages from Dag getting it wet when he dove into the Bellezzan waters with the notebook in his pocket. “What have you been doing, sketching in the shower?” Kai asked, chuckling.

Dag only smiled sheepishly, “Uhm, accidentally dropped it in the tub.”

Kai laughed, “Alright. I had no idea when I got you this that you’d be bringing it everywhere. Even the bath.”

“The paper’s good.” Dag replied, absentmindedly, leafing through the warped paper to look through his own drawings. On the most recent page, he had a complete sketch of his Maestro’s laboratory. He ran his fingers through the waterlogged lines and felt a yearning deep within him. He hadn’t been back in Bellezza for over two days. He missed the city, the people, Jenny. His Maestro.

“Hey, you okay buddy?” Kai’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, “If you’re worried about the water damage, I can get you a new notebook.”

Dag’s fingers tightened protectively around his notebook. “No, I’m just…missing home I guess.” 

Kai smiled and clasped his shoulder, “One more night in the sleep lab, Dag. Then it’s back home for us.”

Dag grinned. “Thanks Kai,” he said, closing his notebook and laying it by his side, still clutching it.

The sudden beeping and whirring of the sleep machine coming to life beside the bed drew their attention. Kai checked his watch and then winced at Dag’s direction. “I guess that’s my cue to leave. Try to get some rest this time, ok Dag?”

Dag nodded, making a show of leaning back against the pillows as Kai stepped out of the sleep lab and into an adjacent room where, presumably, Dag’s doctor and a sleep technician were focused on the incoming data from the machine. 

As he lay down, he stared at the notebook in his hands and then at the machine beside his bed, fingers absentmindedly brushing against the electrodes still attached to his head. Should he dare try to stravagate now? What would the doctors at the sleep lab see if he did?

He meant to put the notebook on the bedside table, but then he felt a loose leaf of paper, different from the rest, peeking through the pages. Out of curiosity, he pulled it out and felt a smile grow on his face.

It was one of his Maestro’s recipes for fireworks. He had probably slipped it into his notebook during all the hustle of preparation for the Feast. 

That made up his mind for him. Placing the piece of parchment back between the pages of his notebook, Dag held it close to his chest, and closed his eyes. As he drifted off, he thought of fireworks going off above a lagoon, the smell of gunpowder lingering in his fingers and his hair.

When Dag woke up, it was in his same old room inside his Maestro’s laboratory, but there was something different about it. The table beside his bed had been knocked over, the books Signor Alarik had leant him about alchemy and Talian literature were littered all across the floor, and the simple wardrobe that housed his Talian clothes was thrown open, its contents strewn all about the room. Even his Merlino blade, which he had last left underneath his bed in the room, was thrown haphazardly by the side, unsheathed.

It looked like someone had torn his room apart looking for something, but what? 

As Dag began picking up some of things off the floor, Alarik finally came in. His Maestro’s eyes widened upon seeing him, rushing towards him.

“Dag! You’re here!” he said, frantic.

“Sorry I’ve been away, Maestro. I got held up at the sleep lab.” Dag tracked his Maestro as Alarik quietly shut the door to the room before quickly heading to the window and pulling that shut and drawing the curtains. “What’s going on?”

“What’s a sleep lab…?” Alarik asked curiously, before quickly shaking his head. “Never mind that, you need to hide!” he said, already throwing a cloak over Dag and pulling him down the stairs and toward the secret passage. His Maestro pulled at the goose shaped candle holder, the passageway to the Duchessa’s quarters revealing itself. “There’s a warrant for your arrest, you need to go somewhere safe! They’re likely going to check this place again, but you should be safe with the Duchessa.”

Alarik handed Dag a lamp sitting on one of the rickety tables, leading him towards the stone steps of the passageway. “She’ll know what to do!”

Dag stumbled along the path, trying not to trip over the stone pathway.

“And don’t forget to knock first!” Alarik called out as the passageway closed behind Dag.

***

In the Bellezzan council chambers, the council was finishing dealing with the day’s smaller transgressions. Everyone was eager to get on with the main case of the day - the girl who had been in the city on The Forbidden Day.

Jenny was brought in, looking remarkably fresh for someone who had been imprisoned for two nights in the palazzo dungeon. She was led to sit on a chair in the middle of the council chambers, under the watchful eye of the entire council. Instead of shrinking before them, she held her head high. Before her, the three foreign rectors looked down on her from their high table, each wearing a mask that represented their seat of power.

Jenny stared each of them down, imagining she could peer through their masks and into their eyes. The Podesta, in his golden lion mask. The Captain of the People, in his silver ram mask. And lastly, the Executor of the Ordinances, in his bronze owl mask. Behind her, there were two council guards in dark hoods guarding the only exit to the council chambers, and to her left and right were hooded scribes and priests, all of them sitting silent and still.

“The trial begins now!” boomed the Executor, in his owl mask. “Johanna Maria, you have defied Bellezza’s most sacred and ancient law: staying on the mainland during the Giornata Vietata.” 

Jenny lifted her chin, defiant.

“There is another warrant with the same charges,” The golden lion continued, “for a boy that was seen with you during the Forbidden Day, however seeing as he has not been found by the Bellezzan guard, his own life and his sentence will hang in the fate of what the council here decides.”

“Normally,” The Podesta said, “this would end in your hanging in the main square, however,” and at this, he picked up a single scroll of parchment and unfurled it before the Executor and the Captain of the People, “extenuating circumstances have required this council to collect evidence that could save,” the lion mask turned toward her, lifeless eyes staring straight at Jenny’s face, “or damn you.”

“Bring forward the first witness,” said the Captain of the People, his voice coming out thin and raspy through his own mask.

Footsteps coming from behind her drew Jenny’s attention. She recognized the middle aged man who came reluctantly forward as the owner of the small bakery that she and Dag frequented. 

“Antonio Bianchi,” said the silver ram, “is it true that you saw this girl and her companion in the city on The Forbidden Day?”

Antonio eyed Jenny, an apologetic look on his face, before he nodded. “Yes sir. They bought two cups of hot chocolate and some biscuits. I served them myself”

“Johanna Maria,” the bronze owl said, turning its attention on Jenny, and she groaned inwardly. Her real name was only ever used when she was in deep deep trouble. Although being on trial for being in Bellezza on the Forbidden Day is about as much trouble as it gets. “Were you aware of the laws surrounding the Forbidden Day?” he asked.

Jenny nodded. “Yes, I am aware” she said, staring up at the council.

“Do you deny the testimony given by this man here?”

Jenny looked at the baker–Antonio– again. He was a good man, and from the look on his face, she could tell that this trial brought him no more joy than it did her. She nodded at his direction. “I do not deny it.” She said, her voice steady.

The silver ram nodded at his companions before looking past her, back into the dark hallway she had come from. “Bring forward the second witness.”

At that, Jenny turned around, and her eyes widened at the familiar sight of her Zia Anna. Zia Anna walked in with her head held high, and confidence in every step. There was a different air to her Zia, one that Jenny had never seen in all her years on Torrone. It was almost regal and the way her Zia stared down the council members was nothing short of impressive. Jenny looked around, wondering if her Zio and Neta were in somewhere in the council chambers as well, instead a sudden hush had come over the entire chamber, and Jenny could swear she saw some of the scribes and priests cross themselves at the sight of her Zia.

“Please state your name,” said the golden lion. Jenny paused, wondering if there was a note of hesitance and respect in the man’s voice that wasn’t there before.

“Anna Bjorgman,” said Zia Anna.

“Signora Bjorgman, what is your relation to the defendant?” the silver ram asked.

“She is my niece,” Zia Anna said with a smile.

“And your niece has been living under your care…?” the bronze owl trailed off, prompting Anna to continue.

“Since the day she was born,” said Zia Anna.

“Please elaborate.” the silver ram said.

Zia Anna bit her lip, and she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Jenny came to Torrone one night with a letter from her mother entrusting her to me,” she said finally.

“And do you have said letter, as evidence?” the gold lion leaned forward, full attention focused on Zia Anna now. The respect in his voice was still there, but there was also a challenge.

At that, the letter, currently still in Jenny’s pocket, currently felt like it was made of lead, and felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket. Jenny had to keep herself from patting it to make sure it was still there.

Zia Anna shook her head. “Unfortunately, the letter is no longer in my possession. Also, I believe the details of the letter are irrelevant as to the case at hand,” Zia Anna said, fixing the council with a challenging stare. Jenny had to admire her zia, she didn’t seem to be afraid of the council at all. Then again, her zia didn’t seem to be afraid of anything.

“Signora,” the bronze owl said, “Please tell the council what prompted you to speak in defense of your niece’s crimes.

At this, Anna’s stare turned to Jenny, and her expression turned soft and fond. It may have just been the light in the chambers, but Jenny could have sworn that she saw a few errant tears gather at the corners of her Zia’s eyes. “Because, I know it to be a fact that no crime was committed.”

The council members exchanged looks with one another, and from where she stood, Jenny could just barely make out the low murmurings beneath their masks.

“What makes you say this?” the golden lion asked.

Zia Anna was still smiling at Jenny, there were no mistaking the tears no, although her Zia’s voice remained calm and steady. “If it pleases the council, that fact is for your final witness to share. My testimony here is done.” Her Zia turned a sharp gaze at the council members, as if daring them to state otherwise.

In response, the bronze owl motioned politely with his hand that Anna could leave, beside him, his fellow council members bowed their heads as she passed. Jenny raised an eyebrow at her Zia when she walked near her, but Zia Anna simply winked in her direction. 

Just as she reached the hallway that would lead away from the chambers, her Zia stopped and Jenny turned to look at her in confusion. Zia Anna turned to face the council, and that regal air was back, “Before I leave, I would like to remind the council that under the Goddess and the Duchessa, they are sworn to secrecy when it comes to all matters that take place within these chambers.”

Jenny turned to look at the foreign rectors, and saw them bow once again in Anna’s direction. “Of course Signora,” the bronze owl said, “under our oath, no citizen will hear of the testimonies that took place here today,” the Executor tilted his head infinitesimally, focused on Anna now, “or the witnesses that gave them.” He finished. Jenny turned to look back at her Zia, somehow she knew, that last sentence was meant for her Zia Anna only.

Anna nodded once before turning to leave, the darkness of the hallway fully obscuring her from view.

“Bring forward the final witness,” said the silver ram called out.

At that, a matronly woman stepped forward, fixing her skirt primly. Jenny had never seen her before, and she wondered what this woman had to say. In her mind, she kept replaying the last part of her Zia’s testimony. She felt her heartbeat grow faster, pattering an excited rhythm against her rib cage.

“Gerda Moretti,” said the council, “what is your relation to the defendant?”

The woman fixed her gaze on Jenny and smiled. “I was the one who presided over her birth, as well as the one who brought her over to Torrone on the night she was born.”

The Podesta steepled his fingers, and even through the mask, Jenny could just hear the sigh escape his lips. “And what is the relevance of that?”

“Council,” Gerda said, “the birth took place here within the city. Right here in Bellezza.”

There was no mistaking the sudden murmurs from the scribes seated all around, but from where she sat, Jenny could barely make out what they were saying. Of course, now knowing who her true mother was, she supposed she shouldn’t have been shocked at this revelation.

The bronze owl had held up both hands, calling for silence, on either side of him, the ram and lion were in deep conversation, but Jenny couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“If that is true then where are this child’s birth parents? That they might claim her as their own.” The silver ram said.” Jenny clenched her hands into fists and forced herself not to look behind her. Still a traitorous part of her hoped. Despite herself, Jenny found herself peering behind her, wondering if the Duchessa would appear to affirm that fact in front of the council.

She caught herself and turned her attention forward again.

“There is no need for that,” Gerda said, “as both midwife and witness to the birth, I can confirm that Johanna Maria is a full Bellezzan citizen under our laws. No crime was committed on the Forbidden Day.”

The foreign rectors looked between themselves, before looking forward again. “Very well,” the bronze owl said, “Johanna Maria, this council declares that no crime was committed.”

“From the testimonies we’ve heard today,” the golden lion continued, “we find you to be innocent of the charges put against you, and in effect, your absent companion as well.”

“The people welcome you,” the silver ram said, extending his arms, “Johanna Maria, as one of our own. A citizen of Bellezza. You are free to go.”

***

Enrico sat at the dark corner of the bar, waiting, his dark green cloak over his eyes, when a man sat down near him. “Do you have it?” Enrico murmured.

“Yes,” the man replied. “Do you have the payment?” he asked. When Enrico showed him the bag of silver, he nodded, satisfied. He held out a rolled up piece of parchment and slid it towards him. He pocketed the bag of silver that Enrico tossed towards him, and hurriedly went on his way.

Enrico looked around the bar. Satisfied that no one seemed to be watching, he carefully unrolled the old parchment. On it was a sketch of the Mirror Room in the Duchessa’s palazzo. He smiled at the piece of parchment, “lovely,” Enrico purred, “I cannot wait to see it for myself, in person.”

*~*


	22. Chapter 21

Being escorted from the council chambers felt like a surreal experience. In fact, the last few days felt almost unreal and Jenny wasn’t sure she had fully caught up with everything that had happened. So, she didn’t put up a fight when the guards from the trial escorted her back to the palazzo, where she was met by a different set of guards entirely, who led her through the palazzo’s many winding corridors until they stopped at a grand pair of double doors.

The guard beside her knocked once, and then left her alone in the hallway. Jenny watched him leave until the doors in front of her opened and she was met by the Duchessa.

“Jenny!”

Jenny steeled herself and clenched her fists, managing the slightest of smiles. “Your Grace.”

The Duchessa ushered her into the room and closed the door before placing both hands on her shoulders and looking her over, as if making sure she was okay. A single gloved hand moved to Jenny’s cheek and the Duchessa smiled. “There you are, I’m glad that’s all behind us now.”

Jenny nodded and bowed her head. “It was all thanks to you, Your Grace. I cannot thank you enough.”

The Duchessa caressed at her cheek once before ushering her further inside, “There’s someone here to see you.”

She fully expected to see her Zia and Zio with Neta, so when The Duchessa stepped aside, the person standing in the room took her completely by surprise.

“Dag!”

She hadn’t realized she had run over to her friend until she had pulled him into a vice-grip of a hug. “Topolino! Where have you been? Did they get you too?”

“No but,” Dag pulled away and did his own once over of her, “I heard what happened to you! Are you okay?”

Jenny smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt genuine on her lips. “I’m okay now, and it’s a relief to see that you are too.”

Dag winced and scratched at his head, his fingers lingering on his hair. “I’m sorry if I caused you guys any worry. I sorta got, held up back in my world. Long story. But that means I can’t stay long now, I have to get back or else my doctors will worry about me.”

Jenny nodded, even as her grip on his arms tightened. There was so much she wanted to tell him! But the Duchessa’s presence in the room was a heavy reminder, and Jenny wasn’t sure she was at leisure to share everything with her friend just yet. Instead, she ruffled at his hair. “As long as you promise to come back soon! You owe me a pastry while we catch up!”

Her friend smiled up at her, looking much younger than she ever remembered seeing him. Once again, Jenny is reminded of his limited time in his home world, and selfishly entertains the brief notion of asking him never to go back there. Dag clasps at her arm and nods. “It’s a deal! Once I’m out of the hospital, we can go back to how things used to be!”

***

The following day, Jenny was summoned back to the Palazzo in secret, the woman who testified to be the midwife at her birth–Gerda–had come to her Zia Beata’s house while they were eating breakfast and quickly ushered her away.

As she walked through Palazzo’s grand halls, she wondered briefly if she would finally get the answers she was seeking. Instead of turning toward the Duchessa’s chambers, she was led into a different wing, and into a completely different set of rooms, one that could probably fit her old house on Torrone and still have room to spare.

As expected, the Duchessa was waiting for her inside, nursing what looked to be a cup of tea along with some cheese and fruit.

Jenny bowed, “Your Grace.”

“Please, there’s no need for that here,” The Duchessa said, standing up before motioning for Jenny to take the seat opposite her. She hesitated for the briefest moments before complying.

She waited, watching as the Duchessa delicately nibbled at bits of toast and cheese, sipping at her tea as she signed a few parchments with an elegant flick of her wrist. When she had done, she motioned for Gerda to take the paperwork away and focused her attention on Jenny.

“Apologies,” The Duchessa said with a sheepish smile, “I usually finish my morning paperwork sooner, but ever since–” The Duchessa trailed off and fixed her with such a stare, “–well, suffice it to say that now I try to read through everything more thoroughly.”

Jenny could sense the Duchessa’s meager attempts at small talk. She winced and wished she could reciprocate. Frustrated as she was by the whole situation, she could still see that the woman in front of her was making an effort and Jenny was nothing if not congenial by nature.

“I-is it difficult? What you do everyday?” She asked, in a small voice.

Across from her, the Duchessa’s eyebrows raised slightly, as if not expecting her to continue the conversation. The responding smile the Duchessa gave her told Jenny that she had done the right thing.

“Sometimes,” the Duchessa said, setting her teacup down and drumming her finger against her cheek. “It’s really not as glamorous as some people think. Most of the time I’m in meetings about trade routes, or negotiating treatises and land disputes with the Senators.” The Duchessa’s eyes twinkled merrily at her, “But I won’t bore you with those details. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called for you.”

Jenny leaned forward in her seat and nodded.

“I know I promised you answers,” the Duchessa said, “but those things will come with time. For now I also–” here the Duchessa hesitated, and she looked almost nervous. “I wanted to…to make up for the years that I wasn’t there.”

Jenny felt a strange feeling squirm within her ribcage. She couldn’t quite place what it was, so she stayed quiet.

“I know there’s no…making up for not being there.” The Duchessa was staring solely at her gloved hands, both of them clenched into fists on her lap. “But I want you to know, it was never–if I could have kept you. I would have. Please believe that.” Here the Duchessa fixed her with a pleading stare, and Jenny felt some of her anger from the last few days chip away.

Jenny nodded.

The Duchessa sighed, a great relief lifting from her shoulders. “Uhm. So. These rooms are for you.”

Jenny looked around her with a start, eyes widening. “Wait what?”

The Duchessa chuckled softly and looked around the room as well. “I won’t be disappointed if you refuse the offer, or if you prefer to stay with your Zia Beata or go back to Torrone. But I had these arranged for you in secret in case you–well, I mean, the offer will always stand, and these rooms will always be here for you should you want them.”

Jenny was still staring around in shock, she had never been given this much space all to herself before. Where she was currently seated with the Duchessa was an elegantly designed sitting room, with sofas and a chandelier above head and tapestries and paintings all around the walls. Behind them was a door that led to what Jenny could only imagine was a large bed chamber, and there were other doors too, leading to other rooms that were entirely hers.

“Your Grace, I don’t know what–”

“Please, you don’t have to say anything.” The Duchessa said, palms up in a placating gesture. “I had these arranged in secret, so only Gerda and a select few of my trusted handmaidens know. The Palazzo is so big that none of the other Senators will really know you’re here. Over there is a reading room,” the Duchessa said, pointing toward the door to their left, “and the one on the right leads to a private bath chamber. And if you enter the bed chamber there’s a…”

The Duchessa smiled at her fondly, “there’s a passage there that leads to my own private quarters.”

That strange squirming feeling in her chest was growing, Jenny just wasn’t sure how to react to it all.

“And I know you love being outside,” the Duchessa said, “so if you want to come and go without being seen, the passage to my private quarters also leads to a private dock near the main canal that you can use to come and go whenever you want.”

The feeling in her chest had migrated to her throat, making it hard to speak. Jenny simply nodded.

The Duchessa leaned forward, arm up, and for a moment, Jenny thought the woman would carress her cheek like she had the day before but then a knock at the door startled both of them.

Gerda entered the room again, bowing deeply, “apologies Duchessa,” the woman said, “but we must be getting on with your schedules for the day. I’m afraid you must start getting ready.”

“Of course,” the Duchessa said, standing up, her voice going from warm to regal in a matter of seconds, the disjunct shocking Jenny.

As the Duchessa made to leave, she paused and looked Jenny in the eyes, “You can stay if you want. But should you wish to leave, Gerda will come back here to escort you out in a little while.”

Jenny nodded again, and watched as the Duchessa started heading towards the door. It was then that whatever emotion that had been closing her throat broke free, and before her brain could give it so much as a passing wave, she found herself blurting out, “Thank you!”

The Duchessa paused in her steps and turned around, eyes wide. Jenny felt a flush of embarrassment warm at her cheeks so she bowed her head, “Thank you, Your Grace, for the generous offer.”

When Jenny looked up again, something in the Duchessa’s expression fell ever so slightly. Still the woman smiled at her before turning once again to go. When the door closed behind them, Jenny heaved a loud sigh and leaned back against the sofa, a weight she hadn’t realized before was suddenly lifted from her chest.

She looked around at the rooms once again, her private rooms now, and marveled at the drastic turn her life had taken in the last few days. She stared at the chair where the Duchessa had been sitting not five minutes ago and felt a warmth she couldn’t explain.

Jenny wished Dag were with her, so that she had someone to talk to about all these revelations.

***

Elsa stood in front of the full length mirror, letting Gerda lace up the ties on her new dress made from Neta’s lace. The message woven into the lace weighed heavily on her mind. Neta was deliberately vague about the threat, in case the message on the lace was intercepted, but Elsa knew that she was to be on her guard from a man named Enrico.

 _Enrico…didn’t Alarik once, so long ago, mention someone with that name?_ Elsa wasn’t quite sure, it was a common enough name, and she very well couldn’t ask Alarik, seeing as he still wasn’t speaking to her.

Would he ever speak to her again? Of course, he would still have to address her, as some formalities were inviolate, but that careful, comfortable friendship that they had reestablished after…Jenny, and after she had asked him to leave, had soon fallen apart once he had learned the truth. Or at least, part of the truth.

He still didn’t know that he was Jenny’s father.

She clenched her hands into fists as she felt the room’s temperature drop considerably. Gerda began to shiver as she finished lacing up Elsa’s dress, and Elsa murmured a quiet apology, although as she looked around, she saw a scrim of ice on the floor, frost quickly climbing on the walls, even some snowflakes hanging in the air.

The thought of Jenny brought other unbidden worries into her mind. Like the brief moment they had shared in the new quarters she had given her. There was still distrust and caution plain on her daughter’s face, and that alone hurt Elsa more than she could put into words. But just as she was leaving, she thought she caught a glimpse of openness on Jenny’s face.

It was a precarious and fragile thing, this relationship she was trying to build with her daughter. In her heart, Elsa knew that one wrong move from her would ruin the budding trust that they were just starting to build with each other. And she had already lost so much time. Over fifteen years! She couldn’t bear the thought of Jenny being the one to pull away now. That pain would be the most unbearable of all.

 _No…no…_ She couldn’t go listen to the petitions of her people like this. Not in her current state. It had been so long since she had lost control, and every time it had happened, it had been in front of Alarik or Gerda, people close to her whom she trusted. She couldn’t afford to lose control in front of her people.

Gerda’s warm hand on her own quelled some of her anxieties, but it wasn’t enough to quell the steadily growing layer of frost covering her chambers.

***

Giuliana sat at the throne in the center of The Mirror Room, wearing a grand dress of the finest silver thread, with a shining silver mask to match. It was finer than anything Giuliana would ever wear in her lifetime, even finer than her lace wedding dress, which the lacemaker Neta in Burlesca had finally finished. She had finished fitting her dress, and when she had arrived back home, she had received word that her services to the Duchessa would be needed once more.

Working as the Duchessa’s body double was glamorous, relatively easy work, although oftentimes frightfully dull, as she could never say a single word. But she always wore the most beautiful dresses and jewels, and was paid handsomely for her services. And so she thought nothing of it when Gerda dressed her to hear the petitions of the people in The Mirror Room. She was simply to listen to the petitioners and not speak, and to report back to the Duchessa afterwards, in the adjoining private chambers, so that the Duchessa could make the decisions.

After the fifth or sixth petitioner, Giuliana was beginning to get bored, but she had to remain seated with her back straight on the throne, always regal and poised, like the Duchessa. It didn’t help that the Mirror room was a verifiable labyrinth of glass and illusion. If she looked at one of the reflective surfaces for too long her head started to feel like it was spinning. Even a few of the day’s petitioners were thrown off by the multiple reflections created by the room and more than a handful of them had ended up facing the wrong direction when addressing her.

Giuliana supposed that this was the whole point of the room. Still it made her want to close her eyes every few minutes just to escape the many reflections. She wondered how the Duchessa ever managed to not fall asleep during these things, when she saw the next petitioner walk straight in front of her.

It was not just the fact that he walked straight in front of her that caught her attention, although that was one of the reasons, as the confusion of The Mirror Room’s design meant that people could stand anywhere and never know what it was they were looking at, if they were looking at the real Duchessa or a mere reflection. It was because he was a familiar face.

 _Why, it’s my Enrico_! Giuliana thought fondly, and she smiled at him. He looked as handsome and as charming as the day they met. Already Giuliana could feel herself warm at the thought that they would be married soon.

Enrico was looking at her with his mouth forming a hard line. He reached for something in his pocket, and bowled it towards Giuliana, the object landing under the throne where Giuliana sat. He bowed quickly, and hurried off without a word.

Before Giuliana could ponder on her fiance’s strange behavior, the world around her exploded into shards.

***

Alarik was walking through the halls of the Palazzo, a handful of books from the private library stacked in his hands when he heard the explosion. The sound of glass and mirrors shattering was deafening even before he felt the shaking from it, as if from a sudden earthquake. The tomes in his hands all fell to the floor, around him guards and servants were screaming, a few of the handmaidens wailing that the explosion had come from the Mirror Room.

He couldn’t make out anything from the cacophony of panicked cries until one lady-in-waiting ran passed him, crying. “Dia no! My lady is still in the Mirror Room!”

Alarik felt his blood run cold, the tips of his fingers going numb. His legs must have moved on their own because he found himself running alongside a handful of servants and guards, all toward the source of the explosion. He could no longer hear the cries over the rush of blood in his ears. All he could focus on were his own frantic thoughts.

Alarik made it to The Mirror Room at a sprint. At least, what was left of The Mirror Room.

His ears were still ringing from the blast as he took in the wreck around him. All around him were fragments of mirror, the shards sticking out at angles. The glass ceiling had collapsed and the wonderful illusion the room had created was now a nightmarish sight. At the very center, where the throne of the Duchessa was, was a horrible splinter pile of wood, debris, and glass, a growing puddle of red spreading out from the blackened floor.

Alarik felt his world tilt, his stance felt off kilter as he realized what he was seeing. Whom he was seeing.

“ _No_! Goddess, no!” he cried out, falling to his knees, heedless to the glass on the floor, or anything else around him at all. “ _ELSA!_ ”

All around him came the surrounding shouts of the people who had also begun to realize what had just happened. “Bellezza é morta! The Duchessa is dead!”

Handmaidens and staff had all fallen to their knees as well, many crossing themselves, most were weeping in despair. Alarik felt like wretching and crying out in rage all at once. Instead he stood to his feet and took the opposite hallway to where his own private rooms in the Palazzo were.

The explosion had unsettled multiple paintings and tapestries everywhere, the tremor of it even knocking over a few statues and shattering them into thousands of pieces. But Alarik barely saw any of that. He was walking through pure muscle memory now, heedless of the scrapes on his palms from when he had knelt on the floor or the tears streaming down his face.

When he entered his own private chamber, he went straight for the passage that connected his rooms to Elsa’s. There was a murmuring echo in the hallway all around him, and it took him a moment to realize it was him, whispering “no” over and over and over again in the hopes that what he had just seen wasn’t true.

He stopped halfway through the tunnel and felt the heartbreak and pain catch up to him all at once. Alarik let out another cry of agony and despair, this one coming from the very soul and core of him.

Bellezza é morta. The very heart of Bellezza had just died, and the pain in his chest told him that his had as well.


	23. Chapter 22

When the explosion shook the city, it had been life as usual in Bellezza. Bakers tending to their bread, mandoliers ferrying people and goods to and from the waters. Men carting their barrels of wine, women gossiping amongst themselves while their children played in fountains. Then the earth shook and for a moment, everything was silent.

It was then that the chaos began. People running towards the Palazzo, crashing into horrified servants and staff who were running outside, tears streaming about their faces. Mothers ushered their children back into their homes. The braver mandoliers had abandoned their boats to help usher those rushing out of the Palazzo somewhere safer.

Still outside, the Ducal guards were holding a line, preventing the rush of curious citizens from storming the Palazzo. Many of them claimed that their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers worked in the Palazzo and they hadn’t seen them come running out. Still the line held. 

Through the cacophony of it all, the news began spreading, first from trembling, scared lips, passing to the quick mouths of curious bystanders, eventually reaching every ear in Bellezza. Bellezza é morta they all said, the phrase usually followed by a horrified gasp and more than several people crossing themselves, asking guidance from their city’s Goddess. Before evening, the whole city state knew the news. Their Duchessa was dead, and the people were without the connection to the Goddess.

***

Jenny was in the middle of exploring her new rooms in the Palazzo when the explosion shook and she tumbled to her feet due to the tremors of it. The explosion shook the dust from the corners of the ceiling and a few of the vases that dotted her rooms tumbled down from their stands, crashing and spilling water and flowers everywhere. Following the deafening sounds, came a silence that was louder and scarier than the explosion. In the space of a few heartbeats, Jenny stared about in confusion, wondering what had happened.

Then the screaming started.

She couldn’t make out any of it and for a moment, Jenny felt too afraid to even stand up and walk over to the door. The explosion was still ringing through her ears. She grit her teeth, “Come on,” she muttered to herself, standing up on shaky legs and walking over to the door to open it.

The Palazzo hallways were in utter chaos. Staff were running around screaming and crying and there was a strong smell of gunpowder in the air, like a night after Senator Alarik’s fireworks. Briefly, she wondered if something unfortunate had happened to Dag’s Maestro.

Jenny wanted to ask someone what was happening, but the Duchessa had told her that only a handful of trusted ladies-in-waiting knew of her presence, and she didn’t want to risk asking the wrong person and exposing the secret. She was debating whether or not to retreat back into her rooms and wait for Gerda or for the Duchessa to arrive and fill her in on the details when a passing servant girl caught her eye and quickly ushered her back inside.

“It is not safe for you, Madam!” The girl said, urgently, locking the door behind her and pulling Jenny further into the room.

She didn’t know if she could trust this girl. “Uh, d-do you know who I am?” Jenny asked, feeling foolish.

The servant girl nodded, “I was part of a staff of four that prepared these rooms for you Signorina,” the girl said, “Signora Gerda had entrusted only a few of us with the truth.” At this, the servant girl quickly stepped away and knelt in front of Jenny, “that you are an honored guest of the Duchessa, living in the castle in secret.”

“Oh-oh please dont–”

Without warning the servant girl grasped her hand and broke into tears. “I’m so incredibly sorry, Signorina! May the Goddess protect you during this difficult time.”

Jenny felt at a loss. “I don’t–”

The servant girl looked up at her with a tear streaked face, “The explosion! It was in the Mirror Room where the Duchessa was receiving petitions from the people. An assassin had set off an explosion. The Duchessa is dead!”

The words didn’t register, and a part of Jenny felt even more confused than ever. She wondered if she had misheard, if the words had been garbled by the ringing in her ears left by the explosion. “Wh-what?” her voice was no more than a whisper. 

The servant girl was crying harder now, still on her knees and holding on to Jenny’s hand so tightly. “I’m so sorry Signorina, but the Duchessa is dead.”

Jenny felt the world around her tilt, her insides growing cold and numb. She couldn’t hear or see the servant girl anymore, even though the young woman had stood up and was now telling her something urgently. She didn’t even realize the servant girl had left until the sound of the door closing behind her broke Jenny from her thoughts. 

She looked around her. Just that afternoon, the rooms she had spent herself familiarizing felt warm and welcoming, the promise of something new looming just past the reach of her fingers. Now they were cold and hollow. Were they even hers now that–

She took a breath to steady herself and instead she felt the shaky passage of air through her lungs as she gasped out a sob. The room was blurred by the tears trickling down her face. Even amidst the chaos outside, here, in the rooms given to her, everything was unbearably quiet and the stillness of it hurt her more than she could bear. 

Jenny was crying uncontrollably now, sobs that racked her body and grated at her throat until she felt it turn raw. She hugged her knees to herself in a feeble attempt to control the worst of the tremors shaking her body but it just wouldn’t stop. She wept for her city, shaken by a tragedy that she was sure left Bellezza’s entire population feeling unmoored and at a loss.

But more than anything she wept for herself. Suddenly wracked with guilt and regret. All she could think of was how cold she was toward the Duchessa, who had been nothing but kind and understanding from the moment they had met in the dungeons.

All her life, she had prayed to the Goddess to let her meet her mother, and now that it had happened, she wasted the opportunity. Now the Duchessa–her mother was gone. Forever.

Jenny cried even harder. 

“I’m so sorry,” she heard herself cry out in between sobs. “Mother. I’m sorry! 

***

It had felt like a whirlwind, seeing Jenny again and her telling him all the things that had transpired in Bellezza while he had been away. Of course his Maestro and the Duchessa had filled him in on some of the details while they had all awaited the results of the trial, but as expected from his friend, Jenny’s retelling was rife with detail and emotion.

A part of Dag felt guilty, that she had to go through that by herself, that he couldn’t have been with her to offer her comfort as a friend. Then again, he wasn’t too keen on spending a night in a fifteenth century dungeon, so perhaps, despite his initial misgivings, the time spent in the sleep lab had been a blessing in disguise.

He had been worried, upon waking up, if the sleep lab would pick up on his stravagation. As he waited with Kai in Doctor Andersen’s office, he couldn’t help but clench his hands together, the knuckles turning white.

“You alright there, buddy?” Kai asked, patting at his shoulder. Dag forced himself to calm down and placed his hands palms down on his thighs. The sweat in his fingers cooling from the hospital air conditioning.

“Yeah,” he lied, going for nonchalance. “Just um, a bit cold. I guess.”

Kai rubbed at his arms a bit to generate warmth and Dag was grateful, for as long as he could remember, Kai was a steady, helpful presence in his life. Even through the hours of chemo and some sleepless nights he had spent just crying because of the pain, his houseparent had been an unwavering pillar of strength and kindness. He would miss Kai, he realized, sadly, once the cancer finally takes him for good. 

It made Dag think of his Maestro again. It was strange to miss someone he’d only known for a handful of weeks, but like Jenny, it felt as if his Maestro was an irreplaceable part of his life now. He felt saddened by the knowledge that he only met them now, when his life was so limited. He thought he’d gotten over the worse of these emotions, but here they were again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kai asked, lowering his head a bit to look Dag straight in the eye. 

Dag bowed his head and sighed. “D-do you ever miss, uhm. The kids that leave? The orphanage I mean. When they get adopted. Do you miss them?”

Kai looked generally shocked at his question. Eyebrows raising before, he sat back to contemplate his own answer. “Of course,” he said slowly, “in my own way. But it’s always a good kind of missing, because I know they are with people who will love them. Families.”

“But didn’t you ever think of them as family too?” Dag replied, “I guess what I’m really asking is, do you feel weird for missing them, even though you’ve only known them for a short while, even though they were never really your family to begin with?”

“Families aren’t always blood. Sometimes families can be found. I’ve been in my line of work long enough to see that,” Kai said. “Am I making sense?”

Dag smiled slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“What brought this on?” Kai asked. Dag shrugged, looking to his hands again, there were pencil smudges on his fingers. If he imagined hard enough, he could picture the dark stains as gunpowder smudges, after working a long day with his Maestro.

“I–” Dag wasn’t sure how to word it in a way that Kai would understand without him having to lie. “I was thinking about all the people I would miss. If I didn’t make it.”

Kai’s eyes turned sad, and he turned to give Dag a tight hug. “I’m not saying you should lose hope, but know that I would miss you. Everyday.”

Dag felt his throat close up and a familiar stinging in the back of his eyes. He hugged Kai back, “I would miss you too Kai.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” A voice at the door got his attention. Dag pulled away and cleared his throat, if beside him, Kai was wiping away a few errant tears, he was kind enough to pretend not to see them. It was a nurse. “Dr. Andersen, sends his apologies, but he’s attending to an emergency surgery and wont be available for a few more hours.” 

“Oh,” Kai’s face fell a bit, “we were meant to check out today.”

The nurse nods, pulling out a clipboard, “I’ve been instructed to pencil you in for a return visit so that you can proceed with your check out today. Would the day after tomorrow be alright?”

Kai looked to Dag, who shrugged and gave him a smile. He turned back to the nurse, “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you very much, you can tell Dr. Andersen that we’ll be back by then.”

***

When Elsa felt the nearby blast, her first thought was to take cover. She wrenched open the secret door that led to the stone passageway to Alarik’s lab and ran inside. Surrounded by nothing else but stone and darkness, she wouldn’t be in danger from any number of the things in her quarters that could fall on her and crush her, like her crystal chandelier, or the posts of her large canopy bed. Still the endless crashing and screams seemed to reach her even here, and with nothing but fear and adrenaline in her veins, she began running down the tunnel.

She knew the layout of her Palazzo better than even the oldest servants. The explosion had come from the Mirror Room, where everyone had known the ‘Duchessa’ was taking petitions. Before she could think any further about what that meant, Elsa found herself tripping over something.

Or someone.

“Elsa?” came the bewildered voice of Alarik, who stood up quickly, helping her up.

“Alarik, what’s going on, I-” but before Elsa could continue, Alarik had wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair.

It had been so long since she had been held like this. Held by him. The two of them desperately clinging to each other, Elsa found her body giving way to shaking.

“Dia,” Alarik whispered, his breath tickling the downy hairs at the nape of her neck. “If you are a specter, I pray you never find peace so that I could hold you a bit longer.”

Elsa felt a sob shake through her entire body. “Alarik I don’t–”

“I thought I lost you!” Alarik cried, pulling away just far enough to hold her face so tenderly in his hands, as if afraid that she was a ghost who would disappear if he held on too tight. “When the Mirror Room exploded I ran to you and there was so much blood! Elsa I thought–”

With everything finally catching up to her, Elsa shut her eyes and began crying freely now, feeling all the adrenaline leave her body. She was suddenly so, so, so very tired. “Oh Alarik. This is all my fault.”

Alarik was already shaking his head, his grip growing more assured, more comforting. “Elsa, no one could have known what was coming. Not even I with my mirrors–”

“I knew.” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper, the confession of it all cracking her open and making her cry harder. “Alarik I knew, and I still–”

“Wait,” Alarik was wiping at her tears with his thumbs, “You knew? How? What is going on?”

Elsa took a few shuddering breaths, trying to compose herself. “Neta! Neta caught wind of–of something. Of a plot against me and she sent me a hidden message, in the lace she made. She told me it would be happening today but I had no idea what it was.”

She suddenly felt very defeated and useless. “I thought I could face it, whatever it was, on my own. But after all that’s happened with the trial and J–” she looked up at Alarik, eyes wide before continuing, “–and my daughter. Everything suddenly became overwhelming.”

Elsa tried to pull away, “I asked for a body double,” another sob cracked through her voice, around them, the tunnel was covered in frost, “And now an innocent woman is dead. Because of me.”

Alarik put his finger under her chin, lifting her head up so that she was looking at him. He had such kind eyes. “No Elsa. No. What happened…her death isn’t on your hands…”

She didn’t want to meet his eyes, instead, she looked down at her hands, trembling and cold. “Everything bad in my life has happened because of these hands…” she whispered.

In the darkness of the tunnel, she felt more than saw Alarik’s hands envelope her own, warming them in his comforting grip until the temperature in the tunnel had stopped dropping. He lifted them to his lips and placed the softest of kisses on her fingertips.

“I thought I had lost you today,” he confessed into the air between them. “The pain of that knowledge was so unbearable that I had to come here, to our secret passage just to be surrounded by your presence.

“What happened was terrible,” Alarik agreed, “but it was not within your control. And no matter what you say, I could never think ill of you because every single time, I would choose to have you here with me rather than dead in the Mirror Room.”

He wiped away the last of her tears and drew her closer to him. “Whatever happens next, we can face it together. You don’t have to be so alone.”

Elsa closed her eyes and gripped at Alarik’s shirt tighter, letting his warmth calm her. The darkness of the tunnel made it hard to really see his face but she could picture the kind, patient smile he had always reserved just for her.

For the first time in years, she felt lighter than she could ever remember feeling. “Together,” she agreed.


	24. Chapter 23

“You were right, Alarik,” Elsa said. “There’s someone out there who wants me dead. Very nearly succeeded, too.”

“So what do we do now?”

They were in her quarters now. A few of her vases had tumbled to the floor and shattered into many tiny pieces. A painting or two had fallen from their place, leaving discolored patches in the walls where they had once been.

“I think…we let that person believe it,” Elsa said, by her bed while Alarik was walking about the room, cleaning up as best he could. “At least for now.” She stood up straighter. “Whoever did this will have to try a lot harder, to get rid of me.”

Alarik paused in the midst of righting a row of frames by a long cabinet. He crossed over to where Elsa was standing and took both her hands in his, kissing the chill from her fingertips. Elsa felt herself warm at his touch. She smiled.

“Let’s just hope it never comes to that,” he murmured.

Elsa stared at their hands intertwined and allowed her smile to grow a little bigger. It had been years since she allowed herself to hope like this. She basked in the feeling for a while, squeezing Alarik’s hands. When she looked at him again, there was that familiar intensity in his eyes that she recalled over a decade ago.

“Alarik–”

She was interrupted by a loud thud to their left, the bookcase that served as an entrance to the different tunnels that connected the secret passages of the Palazzo had abruptly opened and Jenny was standing there. Face tear-streaked and eyes wide, staring straight at Elsa.

“Jenny!” Elsa began.

She was cut off again, this time by the young girl running straight for her and hugging her tight. It took Elsa the beat of a few moments to realize that Jenny was crying, and mumbling something against the satin of her bodice.

“Jenny,” Elsa said softly now, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Are you alright? I meant to–”

“I’m sorry!” Jenny said louder. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry!” Her voice cracked after every word and hearing it broke Elsa’s heart.

“No, no, no.” She shushed, hugging Jenny tighter to her. “It is me who should be sorry, I shouldn’t have left you in the room by yourself. I should have checked up on you when–”

“All my life I–” Jenny was still sobbing, her words almost incoherent. “And then you–and all I did was–I’m sorry, please! Mother, I’m so sorry.”

Elsa stiffened for a fraction of a heartbeat, just enough for her to register that there were tears in her eyes as well. It felt like something out of reach had finally slotted into place inside her, and she couldn’t help the sudden sob that escaped her lips.

“Oh, my dear. I promise you,” Elsa said amidst her tears, rubbing calming circles against Jenny’s back, “I’ll never leave you again.”

***

After the initial shock of the news of Duchessa’s death wore off, Bellezza entered a citywide period of mourning. White candles were lit and placed on windowsills, allowed to gently flicker throughout the night before being replaced the next day. White ribbons of silk or lace were also tied to door knobs or hung in doorways. The Talian color of mourning. 

The funeral for the Duchessa was held the day after. The casket that was paraded through the city held no body, for not enough could have been recovered from the wreckage of the site. It was easier to explain to curious children that the Duchessa had simply joined the Goddess in both body and soul, as was her divine and royal right. After the procession through the city, the empty casket was placed in a black mandola, and sculled through the waters of the city by six mandoliers, all dressed in black. 

The streets of the city were filled with people, young and old, who wanted to watch the final journey of their beloved Duchessa as they paid their own respects. As the casket passed through the streets, citizens threw white flowers in its wake, and as it floated through the water, the canals of Bellezza likewise turned white with the petals of white roses and lilies. Even though it was summer, for that day, it looked as if all of Bellezza was covered under a blanket of snow. 

At the Bridge of Sighs, stood Gerda, Jenny, Dag, and Alarik, watching the procession in silence. And one more figure was with them.

“I’m so glad I don’t need to wear some wretched mask,” Elsa murmured, standing next to Alarik. She was dressed in a simple green dress with embroidered white flowers along the hem and sleeves, none of her usual finery that she wore as Duchessa.

“Are you certain this is safe?” Alarik whispered back.

Elsa turned from the procession to look at him, some of the old twinkle in her eye back. “You’re perhaps one of the only people in this entire city who know what I look like without a mask.” 

Alarik said nothing, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the procession, and thinking about how that could’ve been her in the casket, and thanking the Goddess that it wasn’t. 

Elsa’s hand found his, and she squeezed it reassuringly, and while Alarik didn’t take his eyes off the procession, he squeezed back, anchoring himself to her.

“Where are they taking it?” Dag murmured to Jenny. He was also taking great pains not to look to his left to where he knew the actually alive Duchessa stood, just another face in the crowd.

“Isola dei Morti,” Jenny whispered back. In order to play the role of heartbroken mourner, she too had took to the streets in all white. Her Zia Beata had lent her a white dress to wear and tied up part of her hair in a white satin ribbon to match.

As the floating procession passed them, Elsa could now see that the casket was covered in white flowers that had been tossed onto mandola by the mourners. Her people.

 _“Ti vogliamo bene, Duchessa!”_ came the cries from the crowd, cries that only grew louder and louder, until it seemed as if the city itself was saying it. Declaring their love for their Duchessa.

Seeing the flowers, and hearing the cries, Elsa felt a strange catch in her throat. These were her people. This was her city. 

And she would protect it. Whatever it took.

***

“You should be safe here,” Alarik said as they all walked into his laboratory. Gerda, Jenny, and Dag both took a seat at the long bench by Alarik’s work table, while Elsa began to pace the length of the room.

“What happens now?” Elsa asked.

Alarik was busy tinkering at his mirrors, fiddling with the different knobs and dials, until the image in the mirrors showed that of a room in the estate of the Di Meridiones family. The image showed Hans, looking like he was speaking to a young woman, no older than twenty five, and a much, much older man.

“I recognize that man,” Gerda said from where she was sitting. “He’s Bellezzan!”

“And that young woman is a cousin of Hans’,” Elsa murmured, her eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. “He plans to marry his cousin off to a Bellezzan!”

“What good would that do?” Dag asked. It was still strange for him to see the Duchessa standing so plainly in front of him. Right now, his body was asleep back at the orphanage, and once he returned to it, he and Kai would be going back to the hospital to receive the final diagnosis from Dr. Andersen. He had meant for this visit to be a simple one, just so he could update Jenny and his Maestro of what had been going on with him. Never would he have realized the complete whirlwind of events that he had once again missed out on while he had been gone. 

“He would most likely have her run as Duchessa, now that the seat is open,” Elsa said.

“What? But you’re still the Duchessa!” Dag said.

Elsa smiled at him, the gesture of it not quite reaching her eyes.

“You see Dag,” Alarik explained, grabbing a scroll from the shelf and unraveling it unto the table. Dag and Jenny peered at it together. It appeared to be a long family tree, but upon closer inspection, Dag realized that all the names were of women. “Right now, the people believe their Duchessa has died, any time a Duchessa dies, a new one must take her place within the next fortnight. Bellezzan tradition has always stated that the city be ruled by a woman under the Goddess, but it is the Goddess herself who must choose this ruler.”

“And the Goddess’ voice is loudest from the clamors of her people.” Elsa finished with a soft touch to Dag’s shoulder. “Just as I was selected by my people, so will the next Duchessa be.”

“So, that’s it?” Jenny spoke up, confused and not a little frustrated. The relief of knowing that her mother─her mother!─was alive had quickly subsided into rage at whoever had attempted to take her from Jenny. “We’re going to let this man put his cousin into the race and hand over Bellezza to the di Meridiones?”

Elsa’s attention moved to her daughter, her smile growing fond, that fiery temperament was no doubt a product of being raised by Anna all her life, and Elsa loved Jenny even more because of it. “No, we will not let Hans di Meridione win. Not if I have anything to do about it.”

“So, you’ll reveal you’re alive!” Jenny said, standing up and pacing the floor. “We announce to everyone what happened, expose Hans for the vile monster he is, and then have him locked up or executed for treason. Then you can assume the throne again.”

Elsa sighed, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. There’s actually no evidence linking Hans to the assassination attempt and before you say it Jenny, no, we cannot allow Signor Alarik to expose his own secrets for this. For now Hans has the upper hand, but we will do everything in our power to make sure that it won’t be that way for long.”

“But why can’t you just reclaim the throne now?” Dag asked.

Alarik turned to look at Elsa, a questioning look on his face, and Elsa nodded, inhaling deeply. 

“This situation has a unique silver lining to it,” Elsa began, “In that, there’s…something I need to get under control first…and now that people, and more importantly, the di Meridiones think I’m dead, I actually have the opportunity to do just that.” Elsa said carefully.

Jenny and Dag stared at her, an identical look of confusion on their faces.

For as long as she could remember, Elsa had always associated her powers with shameful losses of control. But Dag and Jenny deserved to know. She owed them that much. She sighed, and conjured a small flurry of snow inside the otherwise warm room.

Jenny and Dag were both staring at her, mouths agape, and for a moment, Elsa’s worst fears flashed through her mind. Angry mobs of citizens shouting “monster”. Or worse, looks of fear and terror on the faces of her people.

But instead, on their faces, Elsa saw wonder.

“That’s amazing!” Jenny cried, reaching for the little flakes of snow that still floated through the air.

Dag turned to Alarik, “so, is this magic or science?” Instinctively, he reached out a hand and watched as the snowflakes flitted softly on his palm. He remembered winters in Norway, always spent inside his room in the orphanage since he had been too weak to manage the cold by himself.

Alarik grinned at him. “It’s all magic,” he murmured.

“It’s beautiful!” Dag exclaimed, laughing as a snowflake landed on his nose.

Alarik caught Elsa’s eye. “Yes, yes it is.”

Jenny’s eyes widened as she looked at her mother. “This is why, isn’t it? This is why I had to grow up with Zia Anna all these years. Because of this?” Her voice was soft with understanding and Elsa nearly buckled under the weight of her daughter’s acceptance. Elsa nodded.

Jenny nodded too, all her past resentments against her mother finally laid to rest. “Thank you,” she said, “For keeping your promise. For showing me the truth.”

Elsa’s smile was a bit sad, but she reached out for Jenny’s hand all the same, “I still have a few more promises to keep to you, and I’ll make sure we’ll have the time and freedom for me to get to do so.”

Jenny felt something else slot into place, a determination that had her gripping her mother’s hand just a little bit tighter. “I’m going make sure that happens too. Tell me what to do mother, tell me how I can help you.”

Elsa exchanged an uneasy look with Alarik for a few minutes before she heaved a sigh, all her weariness and anxieties contained in that single expression. “Alarik and I did have a thought, but I want it perfectly understood, that if you do not agree with this plan, we won’t force it. We’ll find another way.”

“What is it?” Jenny asked.

“Well,” Alarik started, “we know that the di Meridiones are planning to have their own candidate for the upcoming election, therefore it would make the most sense for us to have our own horse in the race as well.” At this statement, he looked pointedly at Jenny, and she felt a sudden bloom of apprehension rise in her gut.

“Me?”

“It makes the most sense,” Alarik reasoned, “As one of the Senators I can back your bid and we’ll announce your true identity as the daughter of the ‘late’ Duchessa. The people loved Elsa enough that simply knowing you’re her daughter would be enough to secure their votes.”

“But–but,” Jenny looked from Dag, who was staring helplessly at her, to her mother, to Signor Alarik, “I know nothing about being a Duchessa or, or any of those things!”

“Ah but don’t you see!” Alarik suddenly said, “we only need you to win so that Hans and his family don’t claim Bellezza. Once you win, and once Els–erhm, your mother finally has her own capabilities under control, we can tell the people the truth and you can abdicate the throne back to your mother.”

“And you won’t be alone, Jenny!” Elsa added quickly, “Alarik and I will be helping you throughout the campaign, telling you what to do, teaching you what to say. In many ways, you have every advantage at your fingertips.”

Jenny was silent for a moment. When she had offered to help, she was thinking more along the lines of her and Dag doing some spying together, perhaps even in the heart of the di Meridione city states themselves, to find information to help defeat her mother’s enemies. This however, was something else entirely.

“I’m not forcing you to do this.” her mother reminded her, voice comforting, “It’s your choice Jenny.”

She looked around her, at the room of snow her mother had created, which had yet to melt even though warm summer sunlight streamed in through the windows. Now that she could see the bigger picture a little clearly, a lot of the things in her life made more sense now. The contents of her mother’s first and only letter to her─safely tucked away in a drawer in her rooms in the Palazzo─the reason why her Zia Anna never visited Bellezza with them, even her trial. The puzzle pieces of her story finally falling into place.

Throughout all those moments, she had just watched things unfold. She wanted to take part now. 

Jenny grit her teeth and nodded.

“I’ll do it.”


	25. Chapter 24

Dag and Kai sat in the waiting room of Dr. Anderson’s office. Dag watched the clock on the wall, listening to the ticking of the clock. Kai had his nose buried deep in a newspaper, answering the crossword.

“What’s a six letter word for a city in Italy?” Kai asked.

Dag smiled. “Venice?” he suggested.

“Perfect!” Kai said, grinning at him.

Suddenly, they both looked up when Dr. Anderson cleared his throat. “Could you two come into my office, please?”

Even though he couldn’t remember much of his days in an actual school before the cancer took, the sudden cold drop in his gut had Dag thinking of being sent to a principal’s office. He imagined this feeling of impending dread was much the same. Beside him, Kai took a deep breath and clapped his shoulder in encouragement.

Dag and Kai both sat down at the chairs in Dr. Anderson’s office. Dag’s fingers began feeling cold, he laced them together tightly and placed them on his lap.

“Your test results came back, Dag,” Dr. Anderson said. He opened a file on his folder and spent a few seconds looking at it. He heaved a sigh and when he looked back at them, his expression was grim. “I’m afraid your tumor has metastasized.”

“What does that mean?” asked Kai, although Dag had a feeling Kai already knew. On his lap, he squeezed his fingers tighter together despite feeling his heart sink bit by bit in his chest. He could feel his nails, short as they were, digging into the skin of his hands.

“It means that the cancer’s spread to other parts of the body,” Dr. Anderson said, this time turning to look at Dag.

He said more things, about loss of organ function and other things, but Dag barely heard it through the ringing in his ears. Dr. Andersen even mentioned a few plausible timelines for when he might…pass. Perhaps it was a small blessing in itself that Dag didn’t catch those words.

_He was dying._

***

“Are you sure it’s safe to be here mother?” Jenny asked. At present, she, her mother, and Signor Alarik were sneaking into her private rooms in the Palazzo through the secret passage.

“This should be fine,” Elsa replied, stepping into the room and immediately making a beeline for the wardrobe, “Gerda is outside managing the staff, she’ll make sure no one comes through this hallway.”

“Why are we even here when we could have had Gerda fetch us whatever we needed?” Alarik asked, situating himself near the door as a precaution against curious servants who might come snooping in anyway.

“Because,” Elsa said, voice muffled by the dozens of dresses she was busying herself with. “Gerda can’t be seen taking things from the Palazzo. Even if she takes the secret tunnels, someone might still see her in my rooms or Jenny’s rooms taking things, and that might raise questions.”

“Well what are we here to get anyway?” Alarik asked.

“Jenny will need a dress for when you announce her as a candidate, and when I had these rooms arranged I made sure there was one here that would accentuate the red in her hair perfectly.” Elsa explained, with all the seriousness of a woman on a mission.

“So, uhm, how does that work exactly? My being announced as a candidate?” Jenny asked, nervously, from where she was perched on the bed. There was a loose thread on the sheets that she had begun to pick at as the strength of her nerves grew.

“Tomorrow, the council, led by the foreign rectors, will call to the people and open the stage for those called by the Goddess to run for Duchessa.” Alarik explained, from his post by the door. “As you know, only women citizens of Bellezza are allowed to step forward. Usually it’s only those of noble birth who have the courage to actually do so, with, a few exceptions of course.” At this he smiled knowingly at Elsa, who was still busying herself with the wardrobe, although Jenny could swear she could see the hint of a smile turning up her mother’s cheek.

“The foreign rectors will then ask who sponsors the candidates. Hans will no doubt be the sponsor of his, and for you, it shall be me.” Alarik managed a friendly smile, at Jenny’s stunned expression. “Then there will be citizens who will come forward to vouch for the candidate’s good character. And finally, each candidate gives a speech to the people, and we hope for the best!”

“A speech?” Jenny felt her insides turn cold, she had never addressed a large crowd before. “How am I supposed to get all the citizens to even want to vote for me?”

She wished Dag were here to help her with the speech. Though he was slightly younger than her, she knew he could be well spoken and articulate, when he wasn’t panicking.

“Like I said before, simply knowing you’re the daughter of their recently assassinated Duchessa should be enough to secure you the popular vote. The rest, well, that will be entirely up to you.” Alarik said.

At that same moment, Elsa gave out a triumphant cry and pulled out a resplendent blue-green dress embroidered with silver birds along the skirt. “This one!” she said, proudly, turning to smile at Jenny.

Elsa beckoned her over, and Jenny went without a word, standing still and smiling as her mother held up the dress to her form. 

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Elsa said softly, her eyes moving from the dress to her daughter’s face. “Just speak from your heart and I’m sure the people will love you for who you are, not just who you were born from.”

Despite his misgivings, Alarik found himself smiling. It was true, based on experience Jenny was the one with a disadvantage entering into these elections, but these were desperate times and Hans di Meridione could not be allowed to take Bellezza. 

Seeing Elsa bonding with her daughter set off conflicting emotions for Alarik. On the one hand, he was happy to see her happy, to see the shine in her eyes that he hasn’t seen in over a decade. Still, the hurt was still there, knowing that Jenny was the product of Elsa’s–

He cut off the thought before it could fully form in his mind. Now wasn’t the time for this.

From across the room, Elsa looked over Jenny’s shoulder and caught the frustrated curl of Alarik’s lips, the way his eyebrows were bunched together as he stared at the floor. She’d known him long enough to recognize those signs of disappointment and bitterness on him. She felt her own smile lessen somewhat. 

‘ _When this is all over_ ,’ she thought, ‘ _I’ll make it up to you._ ’

***

The ride back to the orphanage was quiet. When they arrived, Dag made a beeline for his room.

“Dag?” Kai asked tentatively, placing a hand on his shoulder before he could get too far. “D-do you want to talk about–”

Dag didn’t think he could look Kai in the eyes without becoming overwhelmed. He could barely process his own feelings, so he shook his head. “No thanks, Kai. I think…I think I wanna be alone for a while.”

“Okay,” Kai said quietly behind him. 

He made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him. Dag wasn’t an idiot, he knew that this would be a possibility. The type of cancer that he had was so rare. But he had been feeling so good lately, with all the time spent in Bellezza, that he had almost forgotten he was sick. It was almost as if his cancer could be tricked into going away, like magic.

And Dag has seen that magic was real.

When the orphanage had sent him to a few months worth of counseling to deal with the complicated feelings that came with his illness, one of the main points his counselor had taught him was to try to put words to his emotions, so that he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by them later on. Right now though, he just felt hollow.

Once again he thought of his Maestro, of Jenny, of all the friends he’d made in that magical world while he slept. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he didn’t want to spend his last few days moping around the orphanage and being useless.

Dag made his choice, and went to find his marbled notebook in his desk drawer. He wanted to go to Bellezza. The others deserved to know that it would be his last time there. He wanted to say goodbye. They deserved that much.

***

On the day the foreign rectors were due to announce the candidates, Jenny was in Signor Alarik’s lab again. Ever since the assassination attempt on her mother, Signor Alarik had persuaded her Zia Beata to let her stay with him in his laboratory for a while. It was perhaps a kindness on her Zia’s part that she agreed without hesitation.

At the present, she and her mother where in what Signor Alarik had mentioned was the room Dag used whenever he stravagated to and from his world.

“There,” her mother said softly, tucking a final braid in place and smoothing down the last few wayward tendrils along Jenny’s forehead. “Perfect.”

Jenny looked at herself in the mirror and tried to recognize the girl staring back. Even though the dress her mother had picked out was not as extravagant as any of the dresses Jenny had seen the Duchessa wear, it was still finer than anything she owned by far. She also wasn’t used to seeing her hair so well kept. 

“I–didn’t think the Duchessa would be so good at doing hair,” Jenny said sheepishly, she meant it as a joke, but she bit her lip and prepared for her mother to take it the wrong way.

Instead, her mother smiled, “I’m sure it isn’t a surprise for you to know that when we were growing up, I spent many days making sure my sister’s hair was always as presentable as it could possibly be.”

Jenny managed a breathy chuckle at that. A constant of her childhood was the sight of her Zia Anna’s tangled mass of hair, especially during early mornings when she had just woken up. On some days there would be attempts to tie it back with a ribbon or two, but most of the time her Zia would just shrug and say “that’s probably fine” and go about her day.

“It probably isn’t a surprise for you to know that Zia Anna has learned nothing about keeping her hair kept,” Jenny replied more at ease.

“That sounds like Anna alright.” Her mother laughed, before her expression turned somber.

“Mother?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” her mother said, “and hurt a lot of people, including you and–and my sister. Which is why I need to get these powers of mine under control, so that I can start making things right again.”

Jenny placed a comforting hand on her mother’s shoulder, “We’ll be alright, mother.” Elsa smiled back and placed a gloved hand against her cheek. 

The moment was short-lived at the sound of Alarik knocking at the door of the room, “It’s time, Jenny.”

*~*


	26. Chapter 25

Outside, there was a large crowd gathered in the Plaza in front of the Palazzo already. A small stage had been set up and even from the door of Signor Alarik’s laboratory, Jenny could see the familiar masks of the foreign rectors looming above the crowd.

Beside her, Signor Alarik gave her an encouraging smile. “Are you ready?”

Jenny focused on the flutter of nerves in her stomach, the way it made her fingers feel cold and her face feel hot. “No,” she said, honestly.

“That’s good,” Signor Alarik said, kindly. “Being nervous is good.”

When they stepped out into the sunshine, the Silver Ram was halfway through his address to the people, “–which is why today, through the guidance of our Beloved Goddess, we now call on those who’ve heard her voice, and wish to answer the call of taking on the mantle of Duchessa.”

There was a murmur throughout the crowd, Jenny could hear a few of the peoples’ misgivings about anyone being able to replace their last Duchessa. And then–

“I shall heed the call!”

The voice was unfamiliar but it rang clear and carried throughout the crowd, when Jenny turned to find the source, she saw the woman from Signor Alarik’s mirrors, Hans di Meridione’s cousin. 

“Please approach the stand, and state your name, Signorina.” The Silver Ram said. Behind him, the Podesta in his golden lion mask whispered something to the Executor of the Ordinances, in his bronze owl mask.

“Francesca di Meridione Conti,” she replied. Jenny didn’t miss the way the crowd’s murmurs grew louder upon hearing the name ‘di Meridione’.

Francesca was escorted atop the stand, where she stood beside the Silver Ram, head held high. “Who sponsors this woman’s candidacy?” The Captain of the People called out, even as his head immediately turned toward one of the balconies on the Palazzo. Jenny followed his line of sight to see Hans di Meridione himself seated with a glass of wine and looking down at the proceedings. At the Captain of the People’s prompt, he lifted his glass as if in toast to the proceedings. Jenny didn’t bother hiding her scowl.

The Captain of the People nodded, “The candidacy is sponsored, by Ambassador Hans di Meridione.”

There was a hesitant applause from the crowd, Jenny took that as a good sign.

“And who shall vouch for this woman?” The Silver Ram called out. Jenny wasn’t surprised to see the same old man from Signor Alarik’s mirrors come forward. The one that married Francesca overnight in order to make her a Bellezzan citizen.

She barely heard the man’s testimonies for his new wife’s good character. Jenny could barely hear anything at all amidst the pounding in her ears. She knew that after this, the Captain of the People will call for other candidates. That means it would be her turn soon.

Beside her Signor Alarik gave her another thumbs up. Jenny looked past him, farther away from the crowd, nearer the docks, where her mother was standing, unmasked. 

“Before we proceed,” The Captain of the People’s voice rang out loud and clear, “Does anyone else heed the call of the Goddess?” 

From where she was standing, her mother nodded at her. Jenny took a deep breath, and then–

“I shall heed the call!”

She felt her face burn up at seeing dozens of faces turn toward her. She focused her gaze on the platform, where the Silver Ram’s mask was turned inquisitively towards her, head tilted ever so slightly. Behind him, the Golden Lion and Bronze Owl had both straightened in their seats.

“Approach the stand, Signorina,” The Silver Ram said, beckoning her nearer. 

Jenny felt rooted to the spot, it was a miracle that she even got her feet to move at all. When she was close enough, the council guards helped her climb atop the stand.

“We meet again, Signorina,” The Silver Ram said, in a voice so low she was sure it was only meant for her ears. This close to him, she could tell that the man behind the mask had blue-green eyes. Behind him, The Golden Lion and Bronze Owl both bowed their heads at her. “State your name for all to hear,” The Silver Ram said, his voice booming for the crowd.

“Johanna Maria.”

“And who sponsors this woman’s candidacy?”

“I do!” Jenny looked to where Signor Alarik’s hand was raised. He gave her another encouraging nod. Beside her, the Captain of the People had already confirmed her sponsor and was now asking for a citizen to vouch for her. 

Jenny watched Gerda come forward. Briefly, she was struck with a sense of déjà vu. She wondered if the woman would provide the same testimony during her trial.

“State your name and how you are related to the candidate.”

“Gerda Moretti. I was the one who presided over her birth.”

The Silver Ram nodded, “and what words can you give to attest to this young woman’s character as a candidate?”

Gerda fixed her eyes on Jenny, her smile growing kind. “Only that I see much of her mother in her, perhaps more than she knows. And that alone is a testament to how good of a leader she will be one day.”

Jenny smiled back.

The Podesta stood now, addressing Gerda directly, the gold of his mask gleaming fiercely under the Bellezzan sun, “Tell us then, Signora Moretti, for all to hear, who is this young woman’s mother, that you can stake your testimony on that alone.”

Gerda lifted her chin, “None other, Signor, than Bellezza’s late Duchessa. Recently assassinated not two days past.”

The crowd burst into an uproar.

***

From his viewpoint at one of the Palazzo balconies, Hans pounded his fist on the railing. The wine in his glass barely sloshed about. 

“Impossible!” he cried. “Who does this child think she is, claiming to be the daughter to the Duchessa?!”

“I don’t think it’s an unfounded claim, my lord,” Enrico said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked almost bored. From his own vantage point on the balcony, he smirked at the figure of Signor Alarik down below. 

“Why wasn’t this shared with me Enrico? You were supposed to be my ears on the ground!” Ambassador Hans was turning an interesting shade of purple now, Enrico wondered, mildly, if it was possible for a man as young as the Ambassador to have a stroke.

“With all due respect, My Lord, I only learned of her existence the same time as you and everyone else in the city. Whoever hid her, did so very well.”

***

It had taken the Captain of the People several minutes to calm down the crowd. Jenny barely heard them, trying as she was to sort through the jumbled words in her head. What would she say to these people? How could she possibly convince them to choose her?

When the initial shock from Gerda’s testimony, the Captain of the Ram cleared his throat and addressed the crowd again. “Right, very well then, now we must hear from our candidates. Signorina Francesca, if you would.”

Jenny couldn’t focus on what her opponent was saying, although she could tell that the other woman was shaken by the recent events.

Once again she searched the crowd for Signor Alarik and her mother, hoping to draw strength from them. A part of her wished that Dag were there too. After his last visit, he had mentioned needing to go back to the hospital to receive news from his doctor. Jenny had tried not to worry about that while preparing for today, but now, she desperately wanted her friend there too.

“Signorina Johanna, it is your turn to address the people.”

Jenny clenched her hands into fists, then took a deep breath. “Citizens of Bellezza, you don’t know me, but I’ve spent all my life admiring and loving this city. Admiring it for its beauty and loving it for its people.” She let out a shaky breath before continuing.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering how my existence has been kept a secret all these years. My mother, she wanted me to live a life as part of the people. She wanted me to be safe. At first I couldn’t understand why, but looking back, I would not trade those years of my childhood spent playing under the sun or in the waters of the lagoon for anything. During those moments, I was truly Bellezzan and loved every second of it. It is that love that lends me the courage to stand before you now.

“My mother was taken before her time, but the legacy she created deserves to live on. As her daughter, I hope to continue that legacy for all of you.”

With her emotions already closing her throat, Jenny took that as her cue to stop. She gave another bow to the three foreign rectors before bowing even deeper towards the crowd.

Her speech was met with another round of thunderous applause.

***

Hans turned around, rounding on Enrico. “ _This is unacceptable_! Enrico I want you to do something about that girl now. _Right now!_ ” 

“My lord I can’t imagine what you’d have me do at this juncture.” Enrico said, his voice taking on a lazy drawl. “It appears Signor Alarik has been a few steps ahead of you this whole time.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Hans seethed, “as long as you get rid of that–that imposter onstage!”

Enrico shrugged with an insouciant smile, and Hans felt like throttling him. 

“Too late, my lord,” Enrico said, pointing towards the city square in front of the Palazzo. “The election’s already begun.”

*** 

Elections were relatively simple in Bellezza. Each citizen eligible to vote was given a black stone, which represented a vote for one candidate, and a white stone, representing a vote for the other. They were to toss the stone corresponding to their choice into a pile, and the votes would be counted. Today, Jenny’s color was black, and the di Meridione girl was white.

Elsa stood a little ways off from the rest of the crowd, watching as the election took place. Though hiding in plain sight was effective, with her dressed in simple clothing, her hair loose, and her face unmasked, she still never enjoyed the confined spaces of crowds. And after Jenny’s speech, her own emotions were also running high, she needed to keep her powers in check.

_“Are you ready, Elsa?” Anna asked, before Elsa stepped up to the podium to give her speech._

_“I don’t know if I can do this…” she murmured, already half ready to run. Unlike most women running for duchessa, Elsa wasn’t of noble birth. Mama and Papa had immigrated from Norvegia and settled in Bellezza a few years before Elsa was born. Mama was a lacemaker and Papa made cakes._

_And Elsa would’ve given anything to have them with her now, reassuring her as she felt the cold of her magic trying to make its way out._

_“Of course you can do this!” Anna said, giving her a hug. “The people of Bellezza are going to love you!” she said, smiling. “I know I do.”_

After the announcement of Jenny’s true parentage, the people of Bellezza were quick to cast their votes for the daughter of their beloved late duchessa. Quickly, the pile of black stones grew and grew, and the applause from the crowd was soon becoming deafening.

From the crowd, she could just make out Alarik, craning his neck to shoot her a hopeful smile. She returned it. Jenny had been amazing, as she knew she would be. Of course, Alarik was right to suspect that the people would feel for the daughter of their beloved ruler.

Already, Elsa felt that she could breathe a little easier.

_Elsa made her way down from the podium in a daze, trying to find her sister’s face amongst the ebullient crowd cheering her name as she finished her speech. She found her shy smile slowly becoming brighter, more genuine, and when she finally locked eyes with Anna, clapping and waving at her, Elsa’s face split into a grin, unable to help herself._

_All that was left to do now was to wait for the counting of the stones. The hardest part was over._

Elsa’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of even louder cheering and applause. She craned her head to see the large pile of black stones towering high beside the few white stones. 

Jenny had been summoned to the stage, looking out towards the crowd with wide green eyes. Beside her, the three foreign rectors were dropping to their knees in a deep bow.

Jenny had won.

***

Hans swiped at his wine glass on the ledge of the balcony, ignoring the sound of crystal shattering at his feet. He turned toward Enrico again, the man sporting an infuriatingly bored look in his eye.

“You want to get paid?” Hans growled, “get me something that will give me the advantage in this situation.”

Enrico smirked, walking over to the ledge of the balcony and peering below where Signor Alarik was ushering the new, young Duchessa away and into the main doors of the Palazzo.

“You don’t need to worry yourself my Lord. I do believe now is the time we can finally play that hidden card up our sleeve.”

That gave Hans pause, “What do you mean?”

Enrico rolled his eyes, but hid it carefully in the smooth motion of a deep bow. “Only that I believe I have the perfect leverage your Lordship is looking for.”

Without waiting for a reply, Enrico turned to leave, heading for the servants’ exits that would lead him nearer the docks.

***

When Dag awoke, he was back in the spare bed in Maestro Alarik’s laboratory, although his maestro was nowhere to be found. Dag placed his notebook in his pocket and wandered around, to see if his maestro had left a note or something, when someone roughly placed a sackcloth over his head.

He tried to struggle, hands flailing wildly as he kicked around blindly, but it was no use. Finally, he felt a blow to the back of his head, before everything turned black.

*~*


	27. Chapter 26

At first, all Dag knew was darkness and a dull ache in the back of his head, and then other things began to make themselves known. Things like the cold, rough feel of stone beneath his cheek, an overall dusty yet damp smell that permeated the air everywhere. When he finally blinked his eyes open, it was to the unfamiliar sight of a dark, windowless dungeon cell.

He bolted up, from where he was lying on the floor, fear running cold and fast through his veins. He tried to feel around for his notebook but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” An unfamiliar voice said.

Dag started and turned around, seeing a tall shadow outside the bars of the dungeon he was in. The figure was situated in the exact spot where the light from the torches couldn’t reach him. Dag squared his shoulders and tried to act braver than he felt. “Who are you?”

“You’re quite good,” was the reply instead. The man speaking stepped into the light, but he wasn’t looking at Dag, he was flipping through the pages of his notebook. “A real talent, I must say.”

“Who are you?” Dag asked again, standing up now. Bits and flashes of what had happened were coming back to him, how he had woken up in the laboratory alone. How someone had thrown a sack over his head and knocked him unconscious. Without a window or sunlight he couldn’t even tell how long he’d been out.

The man on the other side of the bars lingered on one of his sketches, fingers tracing through the pencilwork. Despite the limited light from the torches and the downward tilt of the man’s head, Dag could still see most of his face. Something nagged at the back of his mind. He stepped a bit closer. “Why am I here? What do you want?” 

“This is what you use, isn’t it?” The other man said, still looking through Dag’s sketches and paintings, still not answering any of his questions. “I must confess that I don’t exactly understand the process myself, only a vague idea of how things work.” The stranger finally snapped the notebook shut and looked Dag head on.

He felt all his thoughts come screeching to a halt. The stranger looked like–

“I wonder what else my brother has been teaching you.” The stranger said, smirking at Dag.

Dag’s mouth moved wordlessly. “Y-your,” his eyes widened, taking a few steps back. “Who are you?”

The stranger stowed the notebook away deep into his cloak before smoothly bowing, “Enrico Geatland at your service.”

Dag’s thoughts were a mess of confusion and disbelief. His Maestro had never told him he had a brother, but how could he deny the evidence before him. There were of course some differences, even in the darkness Dag could tell that this man’s hair was lighter, and blonder than his Maestro’s, his features a little sharper. Still, there could be no doubt. 

“I must admit,” Enrico continued, unperturbed by Dag’s obvious bewilderment, “you and your friend have caused a lot of trouble for me and the Ambassador these last few weeks, but now finally, the tide has turned in our favor.”

With this he pulled out a fresh roll of parchment from a different pocket, unrolling it in front of Dag for him to read.

“I don’t–” Dag began.

“This is a witness testimony signed by yours truly and verified by Ambassador Hans di Meridione. You my young friend, are accused of witchcraft and sentenced to death following a trial by the People’s Senate.”

***

Kai hesitated right outside Dag’s door. Dag hadn’t emerged from his room since they’d come home from the hospital yesterday. Only once opening his door to accept the dinner delivered to him.

It hadn’t been good news at all. By Dr. Andersen’s prognosis, the metastasization of the cancer was too aggressive now for surgery, and another round of chemo would do little to slow the growth. He had mentioned a timeframe of three months, but Kai could see from the look in his eyes that three months was being generous. 

The news broke his heart in more ways than he could articulate. Dag had been showing so much good progress the last few weeks, it was almost enough to get him hoping, only to have everything ripped out from under his feet once again.

Which was why he couldn’t even begin to imagine what poor Dag must be going through. Kai took a deep breath before knocking and opening the door, Dag’s breakfast tray tucked safely into his side.

“Dag? Are you awake? I brought breakfast.”

Dag was still asleep on his bed, one hand tucked securely under his pillow where Kai knew he kept that sketchbook he favored so often. Setting the breakfast tray down on the desk nearby, he walked over to the bed and gave Dag a gentle shake.

“Dag? You really should eat something, you barely touched your dinner last night.”

Nothing. Kai felt his pulse quicken. A familiar dread spreading from his gut to his fingers. “Dag?” he tried again, louder this time and with a bit more force. “Dag?”

The first few times it had happened, Kai couldn’t understand why. Even the sleep lab couldn’t come up with any concrete results, but coming from yesterday’s news, something about all of it just clicked for him. Perhaps this was the cancer, manifesting itself all along, and he had been too slow to see it.

“Dag!” Kai was shaking him now, ignoring the growing heat behind his eyes, “Wake up, Dag!” When he still received no response, he dashed quickly out of Dag’s bedroom to call for Dr. Andersen.

It had taken time for Dr. Andersen to reach the orphanage, in all that time Kai had kept a constant vigil by Dag’s bed still trying to wake him. The only comfort he had was that he could clearly see Dag breathing, could feel his pulse, slow as it was, beneath his fingertips.

“Let me see him,” Dr. Andersen said as he swept into the room, immediately taking the spot on the other side of Dag’s bed and running the basic preliminary checks.

“Dag.” Dr. Andersen’s voice was loud and crisp, but still Dag did not wake. He pulled out a small flashlight from his pants pocket and pried open one of Dag’s eyelids, flashing the light there.

No response.

“How long has he been like this?” Dr. Andersen asked, putting the flashlight away and readjusting Dag so that he was laying flat on his back.

“It’s been an hour.” Kai managed to say, the words coming out hoarse and tired. The fear in his gut was growing in size by the minute.

Dr. Andersen nodded, fixing Kai with a hard stare, “the sleep lab results were inconclusive so we couldn’t have foreseen this. But given that this is the longest he’s been under with no response and the latest growth of his cancer, I’m afraid this might be a coma.”

The fear in his gut somehow migrated to his throat, forming a lump that was hard to swallow. Kai couldn’t speak. 

“Call an ambulance,” Dr. Andersen said, “he’ll be needing life support soon.”

***

There was ice on the floor of the lab, slick underfoot. Though Alarik had gotten a fire going in the room’s fireplace, he still found himself shivering, despite his cloak and gloves.

“How about we try again, Elsa?” he said carefully.

Elsa took a deep breath, and tried the controlled release of her powers, letting it dissipate into the air, like they had practiced so many times, but lately she seemed to have trouble concentrating. She splayed out her fingers, and a blast of ice shot into the ceiling.

“Alarik, I’m so sorry!” she cried, but he was already shaking his head, smiling slightly.

“It’s alright. Really,” he said calmly, trying not to spook her any further. He suddenly had an idea. “How about we try less concentration, and more of…redirecting your focus onto something else? Could you try that?”

Elsa nodded.

“How’s Jenny?” Alarik asked. It had been a day since Jenny had been elected Duchessa, and once she had been whisked off by the Palazzo staff, he hadn’t really seen much of her, aside from him congratulating her.

“Gerda told me that Jenny’s already moved all her things into the Palazzo,” Elsa replied. “She’s being acquainted with the staff before her coronation.”

“I see,” Alarik said, nodding. “Speaking of the coronation, Hans di Meridione is furious at the loss. We’re bound to expect some resistance from that front.”

He saw Elsa glance at his mirrors, several of them permanently trained on the di Meridione family these days. Alarik saw Hans talking to an older man whom he recognized as Caleb di Meridione, Hans’ eldest brother.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Elsa asked.

Alarik had a feeling for what the two brothers might be discussing. And as much as it pained him to bring it up with Elsa, he knew that it was finally time. He took a deep breath. “If they come to question Jenny’s…legitimacy, we should be ready,” he said slowly.

He saw Elsa’s cheeks turn pink- she wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Well…I suppose you’re right…” she said, finally. “We both knew this day would come eventually.”

At that, Alarik felt the familiar feeling of jealousy and frustration grip his heart, a familiar, crushing vice, whenever he was reminded of Elsa’s - no - now was not the time to dwell on such things. 

“Should we, uh, call for the father?”

He turned to look at Elsa, who was staring at him unblinkingly. 

“The…father?” she asked, slowly.

Alarik sighed. He knew she would be hesitant to talk about it. She had not once mentioned Jenny’s father, or even given a clue as to who he was. But the father was nowhere to be found, it was clear Jenny did not know, and he may be needed to be called upon to testify, if the need should arise. 

“ _And_ ”, Alarik thought to himself selfishly, “ _I need to know_.”

“You know…” Alarik tried once more. “We need to let him know, if he doesn’t already. And he needs to be prepared. We need to reach him before the di Meridiones get to him first.”

Elsa’s eyes were wide, frost crawling up her arms as the temperature in the room began to plummet. “Alarik…Alarik, I-”

Alarik winced. Now he had only upset her further, the room getting colder and colder by the minute, with her heightened emotions. “Elsa, I’m sorry I got angry before, but-”

“Mother?” came a voice from the secret passage, swung open at the hinges. Jenny was standing there, staring at them with wide eyes, and shivering. “I…I was going to ask you a question about the coronation, but….is everything alright?” she asked, staring around the room, at the snow that was beginning to flurry around. “You know what, the question can wait…should I…?”

She did look _so_ much like Elsa.

Finally, Alarik could take it no longer, and he turned to look at Elsa, all the words beginning to spill out. “Look, Elsa. I know I left, and I know that we ended things rather abruptly, but…” he took a deep breath. “I always thought that–I mean… what i’m trying to say is, no one ever replaced you for me and I’m sorry for ranting but I must admit I’m hurt that you so easily….replaced me.”

“Replace you?” Elsa whispered, staring at him with wide, wet eyes. “Alarik…no one could _ever_ replace you. Ever.”

He wasn’t meeting her eyes now. He couldn’t bear to look at her. “Except for him,” he murmured, unable to keep the hurt from his voice despite how hard he tried.

“Him _who_?” Elsa’s voice was now rising, the air getting more frigid, stalactites of ice forming on the ceiling. He saw Jenny shivering now, but Alarik scarcely felt it, he could feel the heat rising in his face as he said the words he had been resenting for so long.

“Jenny’s…” He spared a glance at the girl in question, shivering looking between him and her mother, confusion in her eyes. “Jenny’s father,” he managed to say.

***

Elsa stared at him when he said it. “Jenny’s father,” Alarik had said.

_  
After Elsa’s fourth marriage to the sea, she was whisked off to the Palazzo and led to her room to change, the resplendent gown for the banquet was laid out on her bed, but there was a different one she had to wear first._

_For an even more special occasion right before the feast began._

_She smiled as she snuck into the chapel a little ways off from all the festivities. Everyone was in the banquet hall, no one would see her. Except for-_

_“Congratulations on your fourth marriage to the sea, Your Grace,” Alarik said smiling, as he stood at the front of the chapel, waiting for her, as he said he would._

_She made her way quickly to him, grasping Alarik’s hands as the minister, sworn to secrecy, quickly officiated the ceremony. She placed her hands on the solid warmth of his chest as he kissed her deeply, pulling her closer to him. When they finally broke the kiss, she smiled up at him. “I like this marriage much better,” she said._

_He kissed her hand, bowing slightly. “Well, best not to keep your citizens waiting, Your Grace,” he said, giving her a little wink. “The banquet is about to begin.”_

_When he straightened, she pulled him down for a kiss once more, before whispering in his ear, “tonight. For my favorite part of the night”_

Ever since Alarik had learned that Jenny was hers, she had thought that the reason he had been so upset was because she hadn’t told him sooner. Seeing Alarik’s confusion, she realized she had jumped to her own conclusions as well. She used to be able to read him better than everyone, knew his thoughts with just a look. But the time apart had changed them both and she had to be better than that now. He deserved as much.

As she looked from him, to Jenny, she felt the cold of her magic begin to recede, as quickly as it had come. She walked towards him, took a breath, and put a hand to his cheek, stroking slightly, as he so often did to her, so long ago.

“Do you really think I could ever betray the only man I’ve ever loved?” she whispered.

Alarik was staring down at her, she saw him swallow past a lump in his throat. “But…but Jenny’s father…”

Elsa stood on tiptoe, and pressed her lips to his. “Is you,” she murmured against his lips. She broke the kiss to look up at him, still staring at her, now dumbstruck. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you as soon as I found out, but I-”

She couldn’t get out the last words, as Alarik was now hugging her so tight, she was caught off guard. And another pair of arms joined them, hugging them both tightly.

“You’re my father?” Jenny exclaimed, looking up at them with big, green eyes. His eyes.

Elsa nodded on behalf of him, as Alarik still seemed to be too stunned to speak. Elsa then allowed herself to be held by them both, relishing in the warmth of these two people whom she loved.

And around them, the ice in the room began to thaw.

*~*


	28. Chapter 27

Dag could barely sleep, and with no window in his cell, he didn’t even know how long he’d been there. All he knew was he was hungry, lonely, and miserable.

He thought of Kai, who must be worried sick by now. Especially after the latest update on his cancer, he couldn’t imagine what his house parent must be thinking now, seeing Dag’s body in Norway, still and perpetually sleeping.

He thought of his Maestro and of Jenny. He was sure neither of them knew he was here, so there was no one to help him. A few hours earlier he had searched the cell for anything that could have helped him but there was only endless grime, an empty cot, and a rusty bucket.

Now he was just doodling in the grime of the walls, swiping confident strokes with his fingers against the dirt to draw clean lines that connected with each other to form simple shapes and spirals. He was pondering on whether or not he could attempt to outline a simple render of the Palazzo when he heard footsteps drawing nearer.

Dag straightened and fixed a hard stare at his cell bars, fully ready to face Enrico again, however a different face came into view and he was momentarily distracted.

This other man was cleaner and more dignified than Enrico with an air of superiority about him as he looked down at Dag from his nose. A part of Dag’s memory stirred, and he remembered seeing this man before, from afar during the Feast of the Maddalena. He glared. “Who are you?”

The man sneered. “You must be from another land if you don’t know who I am.” He eyed Dag’s cell with no small amount of disgust and then smirked. “You are speaking to Ambassador Hans di Meridione, and right now, you’re under my mercy, boy.”

“What do you want with me?” Dag asked.

Hans’s sneer grew. “I’m sure my associate Enrico has expressed our frustration at how you and your friend have been foiling my plans at every turn. But now, the tables have turned, and I finally have the upper hand.”

“I don’t understand,” Dag said, suddenly wary.

“Tell me boy, about the other world you come from. The world beyond this one.” Hans said, his voice triumphant.

Dag felt his blood run cold, but he clamped his mouth shut.

Hans rolled his eyes, “there’s no point in staying silent now. Enrico has told me how you walk without a shadow even though the sun is at its peak in the sky. If that isn’t proof that you’re from another world, I don’t know what is.”

“What do you want from me?” Dag asked.

“So you admit it!” Hans growled, an almost manic gleam in his eye. Dag stared back, defiant.

“I haven’t admitted anything. So tell me what you want.”

It was Hans’s turn to glare now. “You will show me this other world, tell me and my family the power to access it so that we can conquer worlds beyond this one, and in exchange I will withdraw the charges against you. You’ll be free to go.”

Dag bit his lip. If he did that, it would be betraying everything he promised his Maestro, spitting on every good memory they had together. And who knows what the di Meridiones would do to Bellezza if they had access to the 21st century?

But if he didn’t he would never see his home in Norway ever again. Never be able to see his friends in the orphanage or Kai again. Kai, who was undoubtedly still worried about him; Kai who had practically raised him all his life. The choice weighed heavily on his mind.

Across from him, Hans grew impatient. “So, boy? Give me the power to travel between worlds, and I will grant you your freedom this very second.”

Dag fixed another glare at him and realized his mind was made up then and there.

“I’d rather die.”

Hans scowled, letting out a growl of frustration that made Dag’s skin crawl. “And so you shall, tomorrow. And once your secret’s exposed to all, your Maestro will have no choice but to reveal his secrets to me anyway. I still win.”

Dag continued to glare as Hans turned to leave, his footsteps echoing into silence. Once he was sure he was alone, Dag hugged his knees to his chest and began to cry.

***

In the hospital, Kai stared forlornly at Dag’s sleeping body, attached to wires and tubes as a rhythmic beeping continued to sound out along with his heartbeat. It broke his heart to see Dag like this. A knock at the door called his attention.

“The last hour’s readings have been stable,” Dr. Andersen said, walking in with his clipboard but looking very grim. Kai steeled himself. “However,” Dr. Andersen continued, “he hasn’t been responding to any of our treatments. Whatever may have caused this coma, it’s looking to be quite persistent.”

Kai took a deep breath. “But there’s still hope right? I mean, you just said he was stable, and people have been known to wake up from these kinds of things.”

Dr. Andersen suddenly turned all his attention to his clipboard, focusing on it instead of returning Kai’s stare. That couldn’t be a good sign. “That is true,” he agreed, “but in this case, I wouldn’t get our hopes up.” He finally looked Kai in the eye when he said this.

“Why not?” Kai said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“Look, I will be upfront with you,” Dr. Andersen said, “Dag’s case is confounding all of our diagnosticians here in the hospital, and some of them are the best in the country.” He paused, scratching at his head and heaving a loud sigh before putting his clipboard down. “What they all seem to agree on, however, is that factoring in the recent progression of the cancer, Dag might not have long at all.”

Kai nodded, unsure he could trust himself to speak at that moment. He felt Dr. Andersen reach out a hand to grip at his shoulder in comfort.

“I’m truly, very sorry to have to say this,” Dr. Andersen said, and at least he sounded sincere, “but you must consider that given the circumstances, the best thing to do might be to stop the life support.”

***

In the Main Hall of the Palazzo, Jenny was getting ready to meet with the rest of the senators.

“Are you ready for this?” Alarik asked her.

Jenny bit her lip, a trait that she noticed, came from her mother. “‘I’m…I’m not sure,” she said finally. She prided herself in being able to put on a brave face for almost anything. She wanted to prove that she was strong and fearless. Now though, she just felt like a scared little girl. “I don’t think I’m cut out for politics, even if it’s only temporary.”

Alarik put a hand on her shoulder, smiling gently. “I’ll be helping you the whole time.”

Having to now see her friend’s maestro as her father was a strange, albeit not unpleasant, feeling for Jenny. She wished, like her mother, he could have been there for her childhood. See her growing up.

She took a deep breath. “What…what would you have done? If you had known about me?”

Alarik’s eyebrows raised up in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Jenny began, “That was a dumb question, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no not at all!” Alarik said, shaking his head. “If I had known…” he said slowly. “I would have raised you myself, if Elsa felt unsafe doing so herself. I would have done _anything_ to keep you two safe.”

“But not too safe, right?” Jenny clarified, eyes twinkling. “You’d still let me run and climb trees, right?”

Alarik laughed. “Well of course! Although your mother may say otherwise. She may end up freezing the trees just to make sure they’re too slippery to climb!”

They both knew though, that as of late, Elsa’s control has been the best it’s been in years. Ever since the day in the lab, when both Jenny and Alarik learned the truth.

“Although I must admit,” Alarik said, “you will have needed to teach yourself how to climb trees, I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless in that aspect,” he said.

Jenny grinned, mirroring her father’s own. “I’ll teach you how to climb trees if you teach me how to make fireworks, like the ones you’ve made with Dag!”

Alarik laughed. “Deal.”

“Is it _really magic_?” Jenny asked.

He smiled. “Magic, science, they’re one and the same, really. At least when it comes to my brand of fireworks making.”

“I knew it!” Jenny said. “Zia Anna always told me that magic was real. Even when I had long passed the age when children usually stop believing in things like that.”

“Your Zia is a very smart woman,” Alarik said, smiling. “Tell me, does she still make the finest cakes in all of Talia?”

Jenny laughed. “She does! When Neta got married, Zia baked a cake that was almost as tall as I was! Of course, it had to feed the entire island, all of Torrone went to Neta’s wedding!”

Alarik ran a hand through his curls, sending it into even further disarray. “I haven’t seen Neta since she was a little girl, it’s so hard to believe she’s married now!”

Jenny shrugged. “I tried to talk her out of it.” “But no, Nikolai is great!” Jenny added hurriedly, seeing Alarik’s concerned face. “I just didn’t want Neta to move away! We’re best friends! Practically sisters!”

Alarik nodded knowingly. “Sometimes we need to make sacrifices for the people we love. Even if it hurts having to say goodbye to them.”

“Like how mother sent me away?” Jenny asked hesitantly.

He looked straight at her. “Exactly. She just wanted to keep those she loved safe.”

“Including you?”

Alarik sighed. “Yes. I didn’t realize it at the time, but yes. Even me.”

Jenny was about to say something, when they both startled at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Ah, Senator Alarik, there you are!” said a tall man with sandy colored hair. When he saw Jenny, he bowed deeply. “Apologies, Duchessa, I’ve just come to remind Senator Alarik of the people’s senate tomorrow.”

“The…what?”

The man stared at Alarik. “The…People’s Senate? Didn’t you read the official notice?” He reached for his inner jacket, pulling out a piece of paper. “Here. You should probably take a look at what’s on the docket for the things to be discussed.” He bowed once more towards Jenny. “Your Grace,” he said. “Alarik.” he said, handing Alarik the piece of paper.

“Thank you, Senator Pietro,” Alarik said as he read through the official notice. Jenny looked over his shoulder to see what it read:  
 _  
IN THE MATTER OF THE 526th PEOPLE’S SENATE OF BELLEZZA:  
Which shall henceforth take place at the hour of eleven in the morning at Ducal Plaza, presided over by His Lordship, the Captain of the People, in the presence of the Goddess, Her Duchessa, and the Senators that preside over the state, the following matters are to be discussed:_

_Firstly, that the question of Johanna Maria’s legitimacy as a rightful daughter of the Her Excellency, the late Duchessa, Elsa Arenvellata, has come into question, and must first be solutioned before she proceeds to take the throne as Johanna Maria, Duchessa of Bellezza._

_Secondly, that notable witness testimonies have called into question the character of the boy Dag, apprentice to Senator Alarik Geatland, who is henceforth accused of sorcery and witchcraft and is now sentenced to public execution._

_These matters, as having direct concerns to the People of Bellezza, are supported by Ambassador Hans Di Meridione and approved for trial by Captain of the People, Nicolo Panettiere._

Jenny felt something cold and heavy drop to the pit of her stomach. She and her father looked to each other, eyes wide, before Alarik’s expression turned grim.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire” Alarik finally said, “Come, we must speak to your mother.”

*~*


	29. Chapter 28

On the day of his trial, the prison guards threw him a piece of stale bread and a tin of cold water and watched as he ate his first meal in over twenty-four hours. When Dag was finally led outside to the Ducal Plaza, albeit in shackles, he could see that it was morning. He must’ve been in Bellezza at least overnight. He took great care to stand under the shade of the Palazzo roof, so that no one else would see his absence of a shadow.

Suddenly, he saw the unmistakable faces of Jenny and Maestro Alarik. Jenny had spotted him first, her green eyes going wide as she nudged Alarik beside her. Maestro Alarik looked like he was trying to remain composed, but he looked rather sad and apologetic. As one of the senators, he must have been informed of what was going to happen. Dag took a deep breath, managed to put on a brave face for his Maestro.

Just past the Palazzo steps, in the square where Dag had so often spent afternoons strolling with Jenny, a platform with a single podium had been set up. To the left of it, there was a pyre piled high with logs, waiting for him. Dag felt queasy and scared, despite having been starving that morning, he already felt the urge to throw up the piece of bread he had eaten.

It seemed as if the majority of the city was already congregated at the square. Dag tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat, but between that and the uneasiness in his stomach, the pounding of his heart, and the cold sweat on his forehead, he wasn’t sure which to really focus on. He settled for taking a few deep breaths as he clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking.

A hush had fallen over the crowd, and Dag watched as a tall man in a gleaming silver ram mask emerged from the Palazzo. As he walked toward the platform, the silver of his mask caught the light of the sun. It was almost blinding to look at. 

When the Silver Ram reached the platform, he raised his hands and the crowd fell silent. Even where he was, Dag felt himself straighten in his seat.

“Citizens!” The Silver Ram called out, “Today we gather for the 526th People’s Senate! So shortly after our new Duchessa has been elected, matters have been raised that must be solved for the betterment of Bellezza’s citizens!”

The crowd applauded in agreement. Dag’s fingers were already cramping from how tightly he was clasping them together. All over Bellezza, the sun beat down unforgivingly. 

“To begin our proceedings, we call upon the credible word of Ambassador Hans di Meridione.”

Dag watched as Ambassador Hans stood from the same row that Alarik and Jenny were seated at. As he passed, the dark expressions on both his Maestro and his friend were clear. Dag could feel himself mirroring their glares.

“Citizens of Bellezza!” Hans called out, spreading his arms, palms up, “It is with no small amount of adoration and eternal gratitude to our last, dearly departed Duchessa, that I have been permitted to live amongst you these past years. Nowadays I think of myself as a true Bellezzan.”

Even though she was a few rows ahead, and her face was turned away from him, Dag could almost hear Jenny’s derisive scoff. 

“Which is why,” Hans continued, “her sudden death pains me to no end, and it is due to her sudden passing, that I must now raise these matters with you, my fellow citizens. Bellezza is a beautiful city state, a rich and thriving city state,” Dag could see the hungry gleam in Hans’s eyes as he said this, “and this reputation must be protected even as we move together to heal from the recent tragedy we’ve all suffered.”

“The matter of–” before Hans could finish, the Silver Ram loudly cleared his throat. Dag disguised his snicker as a cough.

“Thank you, Ambassador di Meridione,” The Silver Ram said before turning to address the people, “We’ve now heard the sound reasoning of Ambassador Hans, an honorary citizen under the proclamation of our last Duchessa, now we begin the discussion of the matters at hand.

“Firstly, the legitimacy of our new Duchessa, Johanna Maria, purported daughter of the late Duchessa, Elsa Arenvellata.”

Dag felt his jaw drop open at the words. He knew he had been away from Bellezza a long while, but he never could have predicted that in that time, his friend would suddenly find her mother and become the leader of a city state all in one. He turned to Jenny, who shrugged at him sheepishly.

If he survived this day, he hoped to hear the story of how that had happened.

“As Captain of the People, I now call upon you, fellow citizens, to give your testimonies that your voices might be heard on this matter.” The Silver Ram said. 

One by one, Dag watched as different men and women took to the platform to state their thoughts. Some of them were thankful that Johanna was with them, hoping that she could continue her mother’s great legacy as ruler of the City. Dag clapped after every one of those testimonies.

Still, others came forward with more hesitant thoughts. Admitting that the announcement of her lineage was too sudden, too conveniently timed with the election. Many were looking for the official documents that proclaimed her as the legitimate daughter, to ease their nerves. Dag felt uneasy after these testimonies, because in their own way, they too were justified.

When no other citizen came forward, the Silver Ram stood again. “I have heard your voices, citizens, and in keeping to my duty, I’ve sent my own page boy to the Hall of Records to search for the evidence that might quell your suspicions.” He waved forward a young boy, no older than Dag, maybe younger. 

The Silver Ram placed a kind hand on the boy’s shoulder and knelt down to his level, “Now tell the crowd what you told me this morning after I asked you to comb the Hall of Records.”

The boy turned shyly toward the crowd, “There are no records of the Duchessa being married to any man, or even having a daughter.”

All around, the crowd broke into a fever pitch of murmurs and gasps. Dag stared wide-eyed at Jenny, suddenly worried for his friend, but she had her head held high as usual. Her face, emotionless.

“It is as I have foretold!” Ambassador Hans suddenly spoke up again, from his seat, he was standing up now, “With no proof that our last Duchessa married, who is to say this girl here is even hers. Bellezza’s laws state that its ruler must also be born under the blessing of the Goddess, but with only a midwife to claim her legitimacy, how can we trust that she was not born from an undocumented affair?”

He turned to Jenny now, his sneer downright sinister, “With no documents to prove her existence, she cannot be Duchessa.”

“Stop!” cried a voice from the shadows, and the crowd turned their faces to look towards the direction of the voice. Dag recognized that voice.

“DIA!” shrieked a woman in the crowd, “it’s the Duchessa!”

The crowd erupted into screams, many falling to their knees, some doing the sign of the goddess, a few looked to be close to fainting.

Elsa, her face covered by a simple blue mask, climbed onto the platform with all the elegance of the Duchessa that she truly was. She looked around the crowd and reached a hand up, undoing the ribbon of her mask and letting the mask fall to the floor, revealing her face to the public.

An audible gasp could be heard from the crowd. Dag vaguely remembered Jenny mentioning the tradition of masks being worn by unmarried women, from the age of sixteen. That must mean that the Duchessa was actually…

Even behind the silver ram mask, Dag could see the eyes of the Captain of the People widen. The captain quickly regained his composure, bowing deeply. Elsa nodded at him, and he stepped aside, letting her take center stage.

“My citizens!” Elsa said, her voice ringing clear and true. “I sincerely apologize for my absence. But before I can explain my absence, I must attend to the more important matter at hand, which is the defense of my daughter.” Elsa gestured to the side, where a man in bishop’s robes was standing. “I call upon Bishop Dresner as witness!”

Bishop Dresner walked onto the platform. Dag could see that he had some papers in his hand. Bishop Dresner cleared his throat. “Johanna Maria is indeed the legitimate daughter of our beloved Duchessa. On the evening of the fourth Marriage to the Sea, I had discretely officiated the wedding ceremony of Her Grace, Elsa Arenvellata and Senator Alarik Geatland.”

There were several shocked murmurs from the crowd, Dag’s eyes widened as he looked towards his Maestro, who gave him a sheepish grin.

Bishop Dresner handed the papers to the Captain of the People, who was reading them carefully. He looked up, and nodded. “Everything seems to be in order,” he said. Dag thought he was one of the few that didn’t seem to look too surprised at the revelation. “Let it be known that Johanna Maria is indeed the legitimate daughter of Her Grace Elsa Arenvellata and Senator Alarik Geatland.”

The crowd applauded, many of them cheering. “Our Duchessa lives!” they cried. Dag could see Elsa smiling widely, before she took to the stage once more, addressing the audience. “Indeed, I do live,” she said. “Although in a short amount of time, I have had multiple attempts on my life. After the incident in The Mirror Room, I went into hiding in order to discover the truth.”

The people cried out at that, many of them expressing their anger at the knowledge that someone meant harm to their Duchessa. Dag empathized with each and every one of them.

“And so I present to you all,” Elsa continued, “One such man who made an attempt on my life. Do not direct your anger towards him, rest assured he is already serving out his own sentence for his crimes. And I have since learned that he was only acting on orders from a more sinister, higher power. I call on Guido Parola to testify.”

Dag recognized the man who stepped forward as the would-be assassin whom Elsa had forgiven. The one Dag saved Elsa from, on the Feast of the Maddelena. In the here and now, he looked shamefaced and repentant, but determined as well.

“Fellow citizens, it is as our former Duchessa has said.” Guido said, “I did try to take her life but only because I had been blackmailed into doing so on the Feast of the Maddelena.” He hung his head as he continued, “My family was destitute, and as a desperate man I was led to desperate actions in order to keep them alive, and when their own lives were threatened, I had no choice but to agree to attempt the assassination.”

At that, Guido turned to face the crowd again, this time, he looked determined again. “But the Duchessa, in all her mercy, has sought to forgive me and save my family, which is why I hope to return her goodwill by speaking the truth now. The men who had blackmailed me and forced me into the assassination are none other than Enrico Geatland and Senator Hans di Meridione,” Guido said, pointing towards Hans and Enrico.

Hans stood up indignant, shouting something in protest, but his words were drowned out against the rage of an entire city. The crowd began to boo loudly at Enrico and Hans, until the Captain of the People raised his hands. “Silence!” he said, and gestured to the guards. “Guards, these two are under arrest, for the crime of treason.”

There were more boos from the crowd as Enrico and Hans were chained, both of them looking furious.

“Citizens!” The Silver Ram fought to make himself heard over the crowd’s jeers and applause. “Please, everyone comport yourselves, we still have another trial to attend to.”

It took a while, but finally the crowd settled. From where he was seated, Dag smiled at the sight of Jenny, now with her true parents. Seeing them all together, there could be no doubt that they were a family, already he could see so much of his friend in both the Maestro and the Duchessa, and looking back, he wondered how he never made that connection before. Before he could really start feeling happy for them, however, the Captain of the People spoke again.

“Now we shall address the matter of the boy Dag, who has been accused of witchcraft and is sentenced to death pending the results of today’s trial.”

The crowd fell into hushed whispers once again, but this time, Dag could see many of them facing his way, could feel the heat of hundreds of suspicious eyes judging him all at once. He tried to be brave, once again, but found he couldn’t reach for the same courage his friend had. He looked to his Maestro, who was staring intently at him.

“As Captain of the People, I now call upon you, fellow citizens, to give your testimonies that your voices might be heard on this matter.” The Silver Ram said again.

Dag watched as the crowd stared uneasily at one another, he realized, dimly, that no one really knew him. After all, he only ever spent time with his Maestro and Jenny, who else could possibly vouch for–

“I know this boy!” A voice called out, Dag started and turned to see the owner of the bakery that he and Jenny used to frequent come forward. He waited with bated breath.

“Yes, Signor Bianchi,” The Captain of the Ram said, “Speak your mind.”

The baker stepped onto the platform nervously, chancing a glance at Dag before turning to address the crowd, “He and our new Duchessa used to come to my bakery every day. They are kind and polite, and never have I had reason to suspect him of anything untoward or unnatural.”

The crowd began murmuring amongst themselves again, from where he was seated, Dag’s gratitude toward the baker was overwhelming.

“I, too, have something to say.” A familiar voice said now. From where he was standing with the Palazzo guards, both Enrico’s hands were in shackles, but he still had that confident sneer about his face. Dag felt his heart plummet out of his chest.

“Guards bring forth that prisoner that he might also give his testimony,” The Captain of the People said, no small amount of annoyance in his voice. 

When Enrico took to the stage, he chanced a wicked grin at Dag before turning a smirk in Alarik’s direction. “Fellow citizens, I won’t deny that I’m not the most honorable of men, but if you all know me to be one thing, it is observant. All the secrets left in the shadows are what I collect at the end of the day. You all know this to be true.”

There was a smattering of hesitant agreement amongst the crowd. Dag felt like throwing up again.

“Which is why,” Enrico continued, “It was while I conducted my business in the shadows, doing the bidding of my sponsor, the Ambassador di Meridione, that I saw without a shade of a doubt, that when this boy,” he pointed to Dag now, “walks in the sunlight, he has no shadow of his own to follow him!”

Dag watched as several members of the crowd began doing the sign of the Goddess again. Several pairs of eyes turned to him in fear. He tried not to shrink under their gazes.

“This man,” Alarik spat out, almost red with anger as he stood up, “is already a convicted assassin, I would not trust–”

“No,” Enrico retorted, louder still, “that man is the Maestro of the convicted witch. He taught him everything he knows, and it would make sense for him to say anything to save his young protégé. As a matter of fact,” Enrico’s smile was nothing short of vindictive, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Senator Geatland, himself, also practices witchcraft.” 

At that, the crowd broke into further discussions and murmurs. Dag stared fearfully at his Maestro, who seemed to have calmed himself now, Elsa whispering something in his ear as she rubbed calming circles against his wrist.

The Captain of the People was seemingly stunned at the turn of events the trial had taken. Regaining his composure, he turned to Alarik now.

“Senator Alarik, do you have anything to say against these accusations now turned toward you?”

Alarik nodded, stepping forward onto the platform. “Dearest citizens, I know that my studies cannot be easily put into words, and to the common man, it might seem like magic, but I ask you this: When you enjoy my fireworks during the Feast, are your spirits not lifted with the childlike wonder of things left unknown? When I help the Palazzo physician prescribe tinctures for your ailments, are you not filled with gratitude at the speed with which they work?”

The crowd was sharing uneasy glances with one another. It was clear that Alarik’s words were striking a chord with them.

“I do not ask you to try to understand the science I study or teach to my apprentice.” Alarik said, “Instead I seek to assure you: what my apprentice and I do, it is not witchcraft, and it will never bring harm to a single citizen here in Bellezza.”

Dag could see how some citizens seemed to be swayed, but others still here hesitant and disbelieving. The Captain of the People could see it too, because he addressed the audience again.

“Citizens, to solve this matter, I propose a simple solution: Our lone witness claims that he has seen the boy Dag walk in sunlight with no shadow. With the Goddess’ sun shining down on us today, that is how we must solve this matter. If the boy steps into the sun, and there is indeed no shadow alongside him, then the accusation of witchcraft holds true for him and his Maestro.”

Dag inhaled a shaky breath. There was no escaping his fate now. He could see Jenny hugging her mother tearfully. Elsa on the other hand, only had eyes for Alarik, but the hard tremble in her lips gave her emotions away too.

“However,” The Silver Ram continued, “if the boy does have a shadow, then it is as Senator Alarik says, and the words from our witness are nothing more than a final attempt at salvation from a guilty fiend. Does this appease you, citizens?”

The crowd were unanimous with their assent. Dag stared wide-eyed at his Maestro, who could only look at him with sorrow and unmistakable regret. Dag could see the unspoken apology in his Maestro’s eyes. To the side, Jenny was openly sobbing now, staring between her father and Dag. He managed a weak smile for both of them.

No matter what, he regretted nothing of his time in Bellezza.

“Dag,” The Captain of the People was addressing him now, the Silver Ram Mask gleaming in his direction, “step into the light.”

***

Kai sat in the office of Dr. Andersen, who had handed him the papers in order to finalize things. As Dag’s legal guardian, it was his responsibility to make this decision. He read the documents carefully, all the words seeming to jumble together in a confusing mix, but he saw the words “Cessation of extraordinary treatment” and “do not resuscitate” and felt a lump beginning to rise in his throat. The pen trembled in his hands as it hovered over the dotted lines. 

He paused.

***

Dag took careful steps toward the edge of the shade of the Palazzo’s roof. With each step he tried to fill it with every good memory he’d ever had.

Step. Waking up in Bellezza for the first time, meeting Jenny, meeting his Maestro, learning what he was and the strange ability he had.

Step. Touring the islands with Jenny, feeling the saltwater of the lagoon spray at his face, eating sweet pastries at the bakery every day and then learning new wonders in his Maestro’s laboratory.

Step. Attending the Feast of the Maddalena, seeing the fireworks, diving into the lagoon for silver, saving the Duchessa.

Step. Bright days at the orphanage. Talking with his friends in Norway when he still had the strength to, sketching for hours on end at his room in the orphanage, the day Kai gave him his marbled notebook.

The final step would bring him into the light. He took a deep breath.

***

“Sir? Are you ready?” Doctor Andersen asked, standing by the monitors and machines that were connected to Dag. Keeping him alive.

Kai looked sadly at Dag’s prone body. He remembered, when he was just starting out working at the orphanage, the night when he found Dag on the doorstep of the home, one cold autumn night, wrapped in nothing but some old blankets. Dag always slept peacefully, even as a baby, not one to toss and turn, rarely ever crying. If Kai didn’t look too closely, paid no attention to the hospital gown or the beeping of the machines, Kai could almost pretend Dag was simply asleep.

“Goodbye, Dag,” Kai murmured, holding Dag’s limp hand.

***

As Dag felt the warm sunlight on his skin, he closed his eyes and waited for the screams of terror and accusations. 

Nothing came.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, the crowd was quiet. To the side, Jenny was hugging her mother, openly crying while Elsa comforted her. On the platform, his Maestro’s eyes were sadder than ever. Dag took another deep breath and looked down.

He had a shadow. 

***

“Time of death?” Doctor Andersen asked the nurse.

Kai scarcely heard him.

*~*


	30. Chapter 29

After the trial, after he had been reunited with his Maestro and Jenny, after everything, Dag was given rooms in the Palazzo where food and hot water for a bath were brought in for him. He had spent that night in a sleepless rest, just staring up at the canopy. Occasionally he would look at his hands, or feel at the hair on his head.

Everything felt so surreal.

The next morning, he was escorted to a private dining room where Jenny was waiting. The table was laden with all the pastries they used to share together.

“Hungry?” Jenny had asked, a kind smile on her face.

After a few minutes of silent, companionable eating, Jenny laughed out loud. “Woah!” Jenny said, as Dag ate yet another chocolate biscuit. “Slow down there, Topolino! You’ll eat yourself to death!”

Dag slowly finished eating his biscuit, having a hard time swallowing it. Suddenly he seemed to have lost his appetite.

Jenny’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean…” but Dag was already shaking his head at her, smiling slightly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Not much we can do about it now, I guess.”

Across from him, Jenny pushed her own plate of chocolate biscuits away and reached out to take his hand. “Father told me what it meant, you having a shadow in this world. I’m sorry Dag. Truly sorry.”

Dag heaved a sigh, the hollow place in his chest that kept him awake all night was still there. He wondered when the reality of everything would come crashing down on him. In the here and now, he managed a brief nod. “Thanks Jenny.”

She looked like she was about to say more but a lady-in-waiting swept into the room with a deep bow before stepping aside to reveal Elsa and Alarik, arm-in-arm. The moment he set eyes on Dag, Alarik stepped away from Elsa to sweep Dag into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry Dag.”

He suddenly felt so small, engulfed in his Maestro’s arms. There was a tightness in his chest and a stinging behind his eyes that he tried so hard to tamp down. “What…what happens now?” Dag asked.

Alarik heaved a long sigh, running a hand through his curls. “Your shadow has appeared here in Talia, which means that your body in Bellezza is no longer alive. Your body has translated.”

“Can it be reversed?” Dag asked in a small voice. “If I stravagate back to Norway and my body dies in Bellezza?”

Alarik regarded him sadly. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. No one has ever attempted such a thing before. There’s no telling what may happen to you if you even tried,” he said, clasping Dag’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Dag.”

Dag heaved a sigh as he stared down at his hands again. Physically, he felt fine, healthier than he’s ever felt in years really. But the knowledge that he had died weighed heavily on his mind. Did that mean he was a ghost right now? Was he even really alive or was all of this a strange fever dream one experienced after death?

His Maestro sighed. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Even I can’t begin to wrap my mind around the specificities of things right now. But know this Dag. You are not dead.”

Dag looked up, wide eyed. Wondering if his Maestro could read his mind.

“You aren’t dead.” his Maestro repeated, tightening his grip on Dag’s shoulder. “Feel the breath coursing through your lungs, the heartbeat against your ribcage. Don’t doubt these things. You’re just as alive now as you were in your old world.”

The lump in his throat was larger now. Dag managed a watery smile and nodded.

“Maybe…maybe it’s not so bad?” Jenny said slowly, looking from Dag to Alarik. She held her palms up, eyes wide. “I don’t mean that. I’m glad that–I mean. What I’m trying to say is, you were dying in your old world. At least now, you get a second chance at living?”

In his despair, he had never really thought of it in that way before. Dag blinked a few times, the heavy fog that had been weighing heavy on his heart had lifted somewhat.

“That’s very well put,” Alarik said, with a wry smile. “Of course we don’t expect you to accept this way of thinking Dag, but while you’re getting used to your new life here, I have a proposal for you.” Alarik stepped back, pulling up a seat of his own on the dining table. “No one expects you to stop mourning for what you have just lost, and I know we’re no replacement for the family you’ve left behind in Norvegia, but I would be remiss if I didn’t try to at least make things easier for you.”

Dag tilted his head to the side, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, now that you’ve translated to Bellezza, the first logical course of action would be to make you a citizen.” Alarik explained, “There’s no need for you to be an orphan in both worlds. Jenny could adopt you and under the law you would be a fully-fledged citizen.”

Dag looked from Alarik to Jenny. His friend stared back at him, just as wide-eyed and confused. “Uhm,” Jenny said.

Elsa laughed, lightly. “Alarik, I’m sure Jenny wouldn’t want to act as a surrogate mother to her own friend.” Dag only realized now that she had not spoken up since she and Alarik had come in.

Alarik gave a sheepish smile, scratching at his head.”Well, erm, yes. Quite right. I suppose we could ask Beata, I’m sure she’d be amenable to–”

“Or perhaps…” came Elsa’s voice. Her eyes were twinkling warmly. “Perhaps…we could adopt Dag?” she asked, looking straight at Alarik, a small smile on her face. “You and I?”

Alarik’s cheeks turned pink.

“If you want to!” Elsa added quickly.

“Of course I want to!” Alarik said, looking at Dag.

Dag blinked a few times, trying to will his mind to keep up with the conversation. “But, I–” He looked to Elsa, “Aren’t you, uh, dead too?” He shrugged helplessly, hoping everyone would understand his meaning.

Elsa laughed softly. “Officially, I’m no longer dead. I’ve just spent the last few hours in a meeting with the foreign rectors and all the senators. Tomorrow, Jenny can officially abdicate the crown back to me.”

Jenny threw up her hands. “Oh, thank Goddess!” She leaned back against her seat, propriety all but forgotten. “No offense mother, but that is the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“And..” Elsa began, “I promised my husband and daughter that I would start making things right for everyone. And I did mean everyone,” she said. “Including you. If you’d like.”

Dag stared at everyone, still trying to catch up. Beside him, Jenny was already smiling eagerly, Alarik was also looking warmly at him, and Elsa’s face was warm and inviting. Unbidden, a small bubble of hope began to rise in his chest.

“Are–are you–?” Dag managed, the lump in his throat was gone now, but didn’t trust himself to speak louder than a whisper.

“Dag,” Alarik knelt in front of him, “would it be alright if we adopted you?”

The barrier that had been unknowingly put up against his emotions since the previous day suddenly came crumbling down. Dag launched himself at Alarik, wrapping his Maestro in a tight hug as he started to cry. Pretty soon, he felt Jenny’s warm arms around him too, and then another pair of arms that could only be Elsa’s. They stood there for a while, basking in the warmth and safety of each other. When Dag felt his tears give way to the first real smile in weeks.

“Wait,” Alarik said, and they all looked at him. Alarik took Elsa gently by the hand, “Elsa, there’s one more thing I want to say.” He took a deep breath, one of his hands reaching up to cup the side of her face gently, as Elsa leaned into his hand. “Marry me?”

Elsa smiled, turning her head slightly to kiss the palm of his hand. “We’re already married.”

Alarik laughed. “I know. And I want the whole world to know too,” he said, eyes twinkling. “How about a wedding not in secret, this time?”

“I think that sounds wonderful,” she said, wrapping her arms around Alarik’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. His eyes widened for the space of a moment, before his hands found her hips and he returned the kiss, both of them lost in each other.

Dag looked away, grinning, and he could hear Jenny whisper a soft “gross,” to him. He shrugged, and they both laughed. At the sound of their laughter, Elsa and Alarik broke apart, blushing, and then soon joining them in their laughter as they all embraced tighter.

The feeling started in Dag’s left shoulder, where Elsa’s–his mother’s–hand was wrapped around him. He felt it grow, spreading past his neck and to his chest, from the confused look Jenny threw him, he could guess that she felt it too. A warm, tingling sensation, not quite unlike the buzz of electricity, but more pleasant. 

When they all pulled away, it was to the sight of a bright glow, emanating from Elsa’s chest. She smiled, moving her hands gracefully, the glow turning into an ephemeral ice crystal that floated in the air for a few moments, shining bright before Elsa spread her arms wide and it disappeared in a flash of a thousand ice crystals that fell softly like snow and vanished without a trace.

Dag and Jenny stared at the whole thing in wonder.

“I guess that means you have it under control now,” Jenny said to their mother, the laugh in her voice lifting another smile from Dag’s lips.

Elsa smiled brightly at all of them. “I have you to thank for that.”

Beside her, Alarik was beaming, “Well, I knew you had it in you all along.”

When it felt like his smile couldn’t get any wider, Dag echoed the question he had earlier, “So what happens now?”

This time, Jenny was beside him in an instant, wrapping a secure arm around his shoulder as her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I’ve got a few ideas.”


	31. Chapter 30

There was an excitement in the air unfelt for over a decade. All over, Bellezza was thrumming with the energy of it. Even the sun seemed to shine brighter and the wind off the lagoon blew in a little sweeter that day.

It was a month after the city’s formerly late-Duchessa had been returned to them. A month since Ambassador Hans was bailed from prison by his eldest brother, the Prince of Remora, and subsequently banned from stepping foot in Bellezza ever again. 

For the first time in years, the city was teeming with tourists and visitors from all over Talia. Scholars from Padavia, sailors from Classe, the gypsy musicians from Volana, and even merchants from Giglia. All of them here to witness the newly returned Duchessa’s 20th Marriage of the Sea. For the first time, Bellezza’s gates were once again open to all, and many were saying that it would stay that way for good this time.

One such visitor wasn’t from one of the more far-flung Talian cities, but it may as well have felt that way the way she glowed with excitement as the familiar spires of the Palazzo drew nearer. Her husband smiled fondly at her as he rowed the oars of their boat. “Almost there,” he said.

The moment she stepped foot on Bellezza’s docks, no hood to hide her face, Anna felt a familiar sting at the back of her eyes. She spun around, taking in the sites of Bellezzans, her people, mingling with visitors from all over Talia. It was a sight she never thought she’d see in her wildest dreams. She reached out for her husband’s hand and hugged herself to Kristoff’s warm form, “It’s so good to be back!” She said, smiling up at him. Beside her, Neta and Nikolai were beaming as well.

It started with a middle-aged flower vendor, selling simple bouquets to the tourists, as she passed by, she took another glance at Anna and her gasp was loud enough to draw the attention of anyone near.

“Prinsipessa? Is that you?”

The happy cry amongst the people was clear. It had been over a decade since anyone had seen the Duchessa’s beloved sister and her family. ‘Goddess be praised!’ the people said happily as they came to greet her, offering her hugs and bread and flowers. Anna could remember all of their faces. 

Before long, and before the crowd could become too unruly, Gerda and an entire group of ladies-in-waiting came bustling out of the Palazzo toward them.

“Ooh,” Kristoff said as they approached, “you don’t think we’re late do you?”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Goodness, we better not be. I knew you should have let me take one of the oars!”

“Hey now,” her husband laughed, “we may both be getting old, but I can still navigate those waters faster than any of these young mandoliers.”

“My hero,” Anna chuckled, before turning her attention to–”Gerda! I’ve missed you so much!”

Gerda, smiled, holding back a few tears of her own, “Your Highness, it brings such a lightness to my bones to see you again!”

“Are we late?” Anna asked, as their whole family was ushered from the docks and toward the Palazzo chapel. 

Gerda smiled at her, “The Marriage of the Sea just ended, you’re right on time!”

***

The church was full to bursting with the citizens of Bellezza, come to witness the public marriage of the Duchessa and her senator. Everyone in the crowd was chattering excitedly, eager to witness it, as well as looking forward to Carnivale that evening.

Alarik stood quietly at the front, fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs. He had to restrain himself from running a hand through his curls that had been temporarily tamed and oiled back. He took deep breaths, counted backwards from ten, and when he had finished, the orchestra began to play as Alarik, as well as everyone else, turned their head at the sound of the church doors being opened.

There, walking towards him, was Elsa, in a resplendent gown made of snowy white lace that Neta had so lovingly made. Her sleeves and bodice were lined with tiny pearls that glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. In her hands was a bouquet of Talian wildflowers - wild orchids, violets, and bluebells. As she entered, she had her eyes trained firmly on her bouquet, taking careful, graceful steps, but when she looked up, meeting Alarik’s eyes, her face lit up in a radiant smile.

Finally, Elsa arrived to the front of the aisle, meeting Alarik.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello darling,” he murmured. “You look beautiful.”

Elsa flushed, looking down. “Thank you. You look good yourself.”

Alarik laughed. His curls were already beginning to come loose, something that didn’t escape Elsa’s notice.

She smiled, leaning forward, moving a hand up to his hair, smoothing it back and discreetly allowing her magic to relax from her fingers, frosting his curls into place. Alarik felt it and grinned with wonder and delight.

“Are you ready to do this a second time?” Elsa asked.

Alarik grinned. “I’d choose you, in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, I’d find you, and say ‘I do.’”

In front of them, Bishop Dresner cleared his throat to begin the ceremony. “Dearly beloved…” he said.

Alarik scarcely heard what he was saying, he couldn’t even be bothered to notice the other guests in attendance. Anna, Kristoff, Neta, and Nikolai, in the first row, or Dag and Jenny, his children, standing dutifully to the side of him and Elsa. He only had eyes for his bride, but when Bishop Dresner had joined their hands together with a white silk ribbon, and addressed them both and asked them to say their vows, Alarik found himself saying those same words he had said to her all those years ago.

“I will love and honor you, until death do us part. I will cherish and respect you, for all my time on earth. I will work with you, in all that I do, for all the rest of my days.”

“Then by the power vested in me,” Bishop Dresner said as he untied the ribbon, “I now pronounce you man and wife! You may kiss.”

Alarik leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers as she leaned wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, as the citizens of Bellezza applauded and cheered.

For what may have been several moments, or what felt like a pristine forever, they stayed there in each other’s arms, only breaking apart when they heard gasps from the crowd.

“Dia, it’s snowing outside!” someone sighed happily as snow could be seen from the windows, gently falling outside. 

“How miraculous!” someone else exclaimed. “The goddess herself must be blessing this marriage!”

Anna glanced at Elsa, who was standing comfortably in Alarik’s arms and who shrugged at Anna sheepishly. Elsa winked.

***

“Are you nervous?”

Dag looked up at Jenny–his sister now–and smiled. They were both dressed in finery for the Carnivale party that night. Jenny was a vision in her blue and silver gown, with a blue and silver butterfly mask to match. While he had been dressed in fine silks and velvets, and given a mask of ivory and silver in the form of a mouse. 

“I don’t think I am,” he replied, “It’s hard to say, but i think it’s all finally catching up to me and I’m sort of getting used to it.” He said with a shrug, “does that make sense?”

Jenny smirked but gripped his arm tighter where her arm was intertwined with his, “More than you know.”

Beyond the velvet curtain they were hiding behind, they could hear the sounds of the grand ball in full swing. Dignitaries from all over Talia were in attendance, except for the di Meridiones, tonight was meant to be a night of new beginnings and new alliances.

“How–how are you feeling?” Jenny murmured, and when Dag turned to look at her, he knew she wasn’t referring to the party or his new clothes.

It had been a month since his translation into Talia, a month since his old body technically died in Norway. On some days, he missed his old world more than he could have words to describe. Those days were the hardest, when he hardly left his rooms and instead spent hours drawing things from his old life so he wouldn’t forget them. His old room in the orphanage, Dr. Andersen, Kai. 

He would always be a boy of two worlds, but now he had a new life, once that was free of cancer, and one he was determined not to waste either. He had a mother, his best friend was also his sister, and his Maestro was also his father. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

“Feeling good.” He grinned.

Jenny smiled back, and it looked as if she was about to say more but they were called to attention by the sudden sound of trumpets.

“Honored guests!” A voice just beyond the velvet curtain called out. The joyful chatter of the Carnivale ball inside the Palazzo slowly died down, “As deigned by the Goddess, welcome the Duchessa of Bellezza, Elsa Arenvellata, and her Duke Consort, Alarik Geatland!”

The main hall broke into thunderous applause and cheers. Sharing a mischievous look with his sister, Dag and Jenny both cracked open their own velvet curtain by just a few scant centimeters to take in the view. Across the ballroom, their parents descended the Palazzo steps in all the pomp and grandeur that was to be expected from a newly married couple. 

Alarik was in a satin dress shirt and a sweeping black satin cape. His owl mask was lined with black feathers and silver thread. Beside him, Elsa was a vision in blues and greens, her gown long and sweeping and shifting color whenever she moved. Her own mask, an extravagant peacock mask decked out in feathers, sapphires and emeralds, sweeped up past her face and fanned out like a crown.

Dag and Jenny straightened. They threw each other another excited round of grins before they heard their own trumpet signal.

“Now,” the chamberlain announced, “presenting the royal children, Prinsipessa Johanna Maria, and Prinsipe Dag Harald Thorir!”

When their own velvet curtain parted, Dag and Jenny were greeted by the sight of hundreds of guests clapping and cheering for them. A few ways away, Anna, Kristoff, Neta, and Nikolai were clapping loudly for them as well, seated at their own table of honor, as members of the royal family.

They mirrored their parents’ actions as they descended the steps to where the rest of the guests were. Once they had reached the final landing, all four of them met at the middle of the ballroom, bowing towards one another, before turning to their guests and bowing to them in turn.

Carnivale had officially begun.

Once the banquet ended and the dancing had begun, Jenny wasted no time in making a beeline for her Zio and Zia, Dag in tow.

“You look so lovely!” Zia Anna said, wrapping her niece in a warm hug, “and let me get a look at my new nephew! So handsome little topolino!”

Dag laughed, “Not sure it counts as handsome if you add on that pet name Zia.”

“Nonsense!” Anna laughed, giving him two pecks on the cheek. Her own mask was a green and silver affair, with ribbons seamlessly braided into her own strawberry blonde hair. “As your Zia, I can call you handsome and it would be true no matter what nickname I tack along with it. Besides,” and this time, the happy glint in Anna’s eyes was for Jenny, “You’ll be seeing me everyday so you might have to get used to it!”

Jenny gasped, “Are you moving back to the Palazzo, Zia?”

“Yes!” Anna squealed, clinging tighter to Kristoff as she did so. “Your mother gave us our old rooms back in the Palazzo, we’ll be moving in slowly over the course of next week!”

“But, the bakery!” Jenny asked, although the smile was already plain on her face.

“I’ll still keep it of course!” Anna said with a proud smile.

“Your Zia will be reopening it here in Bellezza,” Kristoff explained, his own mask was in dark green to complement his wife, but unlike hers, his was on a silver rod, that he now, momentarily, placed on the banquet table so that he could talk to his niece and nephew. “And I’ll still be ferrying goods across the islands, but as the official Port Master of Bellezza.”

“Oh that’s so wonderful!” Jenny said, hugging both her zia and zio before turning tentatively to Neta and Nikolai, who were smiling at her warmly, “And you?”

“We’ll be staying in Burlesca,” Neta said kindly, reaching out for Jenny’s hand and taking it in both of hers, “I’ve grown up on the islands, and I can’t imagine returning to this life. But now that Bellezza is open to all once again, I can visit you and my parents every day.”

Jenny managed a watery laugh and hugged her cousin tightly. “I look forward to it!”

“Oh but what about you?” Neta finally asked Jenny as they pulled away from each other, “You’ve gotten everything you’ve searched out to find in Bellezza. What’s next?”

“I wouldn’t say everything,” Jenny said, the familiar glint in her green eyes plain even through her mask, “I remember being robbed of my dream to be a mandolier, perhaps I shall chase that dream now.”

Dag laughed, “A female mandolier?” He said teasingly, although his eyes were light, “you’d be the first,” he told his sister knowingly.

“I’d be the best!” Jenny declared, winking at him. 

They spoke some more, until the heat of their costumes became too much to bear, and Jenny and Dag made their way towards the banquet tables where flavored ice that never melted was set out for guests who needed to cool down.

As she mulled over a flavor she would like, a voice to Jenny’s left said, calmly, “I’d go for the lavender and mint. It is both fragrant and quite refreshing.”

She turned with a start and came face to face with one of the guests, he had on a simple silver-half mask, but his clothes were very fine. She wondered, briefly, if he was one of the Senators she had been introduced to before. She smiled and nodded at him politely before selecting the flavored ice he suggested. Placing it in her mouth, she sighed in relief as the mint helped cool her down.

“Thank you!” She said brightly.

The gentleman bowed before her, removing his mask as he did so. “It is an honor Prinsipessa,” when he turned to look up, Jenny first noticed the familiar blue of his eyes, and something in her memory clicked.

“Nicolo!” A different voice called out. The man was suddenly flanked by two other men, one in black mask, and one in a red one.

“Come, my friend!” The man in the red mask said, “Stefano claims to know three eligible noblewomen from Romula in attendance tonight, we need your charm to invite them to dance!”

“Giacomo has had one too many drinks,” The man in the black mask laughed in a booming voice, “but he speaks the truth, perhaps with these woman from outside Bellezza, we might finally find your match!”

The man with the blue eyes rolled his eyes as he re-tied his mask to his face, but there was a fondness in his smile. “Very well, excuse us Prinsipessa, as I witness my friends make fools of themselves.”

Jenny nodded at the two other gentlemen and once all three had gone, she grabbed another piece of ice and offered it to Dag, “Here, this one tastes best!”

He nodded as he popped it into his mouth, already on his third. The silk and velvet of his costume was unbelievably hot. “Thanks!”

“Oh Dag!” Their Zia Anna called back to them, “Come here topolino, and ask this pretty young lady to dance!”

***

Alarik went to look for Dag and Jenny. A little ways off, Jenny was by the fountain, chatting and laughing with Neta and Nikolai. Surprisingly, he found Dag near where Kristoff and Anna were dancing, he was also dancing and laughing with a pretty young girl his age, with wide brown eyes that sparkled behind her mask and long blonde curls that bounced as Dag twirled her around.

From behind him, Elsa cleared her throat. She stood beside him, slipping her hand in his. She still had the white silk ribbon from their wedding tied around her wrist.

“Do you think they’ll be happy here?” Alarik asked, looking at their children. Elsa squeezed his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder and sighing deeply. 

“Better than happy,” she said, both of them glancing up as the first of the fireworks began to light up the night sky. “ _Home_.”

_*~La Fine~*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- And that's the end! Thanks so much for sticking with us throughout this wild ride!
> 
> \- Don't worry, Nicolo isn't a threat or love interest, lol he's like Alarik's age, he's the Captain of the People in the silver ram mask from previous chapters, lol we just made a really long backstory for him and so we wanted to have him make a cameo one last time


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